had been viewing the half-built house with Denry one Sunday morning when the madman had most astonishingly arrived upon the scene, and after a few minutes vanished.  The building of the house strengthened greatly the friendship between Denry and the Cotterills.  Yet Denry neither liked Mr Cotterill nor trusted him.  The next incident in these happening was that Mrs Machin received notice from the London firm to quit her four-and-sixpence-a-week cottage.  It seemed to her that not merely Brougham Street, but the world, was coming to an end.  She was very angry with Denry for not protecting her more successfully.  He was Mr Wilbraham’s agent, he collected the rent, and it was his duty to guard his mother from unpleasantness.  She observed, however, that he was remarkably disturbed by the notice, and he assured her that Mr Wilbraham had not consulted him in the matter at all.  He wrote a letter to London, which she signed, demanding the reason of this absurd notice flung at an ancient and perfect tenant.  The reply was that Mr Wilbraham intended to pull the houses down, beginning with Mrs Machin’s, and rebuild.

“Pooh!” said Denry.  “Don’t you worry your head, mother; I shall arrange it.  He’ll be down here soon to see his new house—­it’s practically finished, and the furniture is coming in—­and I’ll just talk to him.”

But Mr Wilbraham did not come, the explanation doubtless being that he was mad.  On the other hand, fresh notices came with amazing frequency.  Mrs Machin just handed them over to Denry.  And then Denry received a telegram to say that Mr Wilbraham would be at his new house that night and wished to see Denry there.  Unfortunately, on the same day, by the afternoon post, while Denry was at his offices, there arrived a sort of supreme and ultimate notice from London to Mrs Machin, and it was on blue paper.  It stated, baldly, that as Mrs Machin had failed to comply with all the previous notices, had, indeed, ignored them, she and her goods would now be ejected into the street, according to the law.  It gave her twenty-four hours to flit.  Never had a respectable dame been so insulted as Mrs Machin was insulted by that notice.  The prospect of camping out in Brougham Street confronted her.  When Denry reached home that evening, Mrs Machin, as the phrase is, “gave it him.”

Denry admitted frankly that he was nonplussed, staggered and outraged.  But the thing was simply another proof of Mr Wilbraham’s madness.  After tea he decided that his mother must put on her best clothes, and go up with him to see Mr Wilbraham and firmly expostulate—­in fact, they would arrange the situation between them; and if Mr Wilbraham was obstinate they would defy Mr Wilbraham.  Denry explained to his mother that an Englishwoman’s cottage was her castle, that a landlord’s minions had no right to force an entrance, and that the one thing that Mr Wilbraham could do was to begin unbuilding the cottage from the top outside....  And he would like to see Mr Wilbraham try it on!