’MY DEAR AUBREY—­Your future father-in-law has just been insulting and harrying me in ways which no civilized State had ever heard of before the war.  He is the Chairman of a ridiculous body that calls itself the County War Agricultural Committee, that lays absurd eggs in the shape of sub-Committees to vex landlords.  They have been going about among my farmers and want me to turn out three of them.  I decline, so I suppose they’ll do it for me.  And they’re going to plough up a lot of the park—­without my leave.  And Chicksands is the head and front of the whole business.  He came here to-day to try and coax me into submission.  But I would neither be coaxed nor bullied.  I’ve broken with him; and if my children stand by me properly, they’ll break with him too.  I really don’t see how you’re going to marry Beryl after this.  At least, I shall certainly not help you to do it, and if you defy me you must take the consequences.  The whole world’s gone mad.  My only consolation is that I have just got some new Greek things, and that Levasseur’s helping me unpack them.  However, it’s no good talking to you about them.  You wasted all your time at Cambridge, and I doubt whether you could construe a bit of Euripides to save your life.

’Of course if you want to talk this over, you had better run down.  I have got a new secretary—­came here six weeks ago—­a topping young woman—­who reads Greek like a bird.  But her quantities are not always what they should be.  Good-bye.—­Your affectionate father,

     ‘EDMUND MANNERING.’

Having finished the epistle he read it over with a complacent countenance, put it up and stamped it.  Then he looked at his watch.

’What a long time that young woman’s been away!  I told her to take two hours off, but of course I didn’t mean it.  That was just my excessive politeness.  D-mn my politeness.  It’s always getting in my way.  I forget that women are naturally lazy.  I daresay she was a bit fagged.  But if she’s interested in her work, what does that matter?  I wonder whether she’s looked out all these references?’

And walking over to the one neat table In the room he surveyed it.  There were some sheets lying on it mostly covered with an excellent Greek script, which he turned over.  Suddenly he swooped on one of them.

’Hullo!  That line’s wrong.  Won’t scan.  Trusted to her memory, I suppose.  Didn’t look it up.  And yesterday I caught her out in her accents.  Women play the devil with accents.  But she writes a pretty Greek.  Eh?  What?’ For he had become aware of the re-entry of Levasseur, who was standing at his elbow.

‘’Fraid I can’t stay now,’ said that person.  ’I’ve promised to pick up some wounded at the station to-night.’

‘You—­wounded!—­what do you mean?’ said the Squire, turning upon him.

Levasseur’s large, thin-lipped mouth showed what seemed an habitual grin.

’I’d been getting so unpopular, it was becoming a nuisance.  Line of least resistance, you understand.  Now everybody’s quite civil again.  And I like chauffing.’