’I suppose you think—­like that fellow I’ve just routed—­that it’s a uestion of food production.  It isn’t!  It’s a question of liberty—­versus bondage.  If we can only survive as slaves, then wipe us out!  That’s my view.’

’Wasn’t there a bishop once who said he would rather have England free than sober?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘And a very sensible man,’ growled the Squire, ’though in general I’ve no use for bishops.  Now you understand, I hope?  This is going to be a test case.  I’ll make England ring.’

’Are you sure they can’t settle it at once, under the Defence of the Realm Act?’

‘Not they!’ said the Squire triumphantly.  ’Of course, I’m not putting up a frontal defence.  I’m outflanking them.  I’m proving that this is the worst land they could possibly choose.  I’m offering them something else that they don’t want.  Meanwhile the gates shall be locked, and if any one or anything breaks them down—­my lawyers are ready—­we apply for an injunction at once.’

‘And you’re not—­well, nervous?’ asked Miss Bremerton, with a charming air of presenting something that might have been overlooked.

‘Nervous of what?’

‘Isn’t the law—­the new law—­rather dreadfully strong?’

‘Oh, you think I shall end in the county gaol?’ said the Squire abruptly.  ’Well, of course’—­he took a reflective turn up and down—­’I’ve no particular wish just now for the county gaol.  It would be an infernal nuisance—­in the middle of this book.  But I mean to give them as much trouble as I can.  I’m all right so far.’

He looked up suddenly, and caught an expression on his secretary’s face which called him to order at once, though he was not meant to see it.  Contempt?—­cold contempt?  Something like it.

The Squire drew himself up.

‘You’ve made the arrangements, I suppose, for to-morrow?’

He spoke curtly, as the master of the house to a dependent.

Elizabeth meekly replied that she had done everything according to his directions.  Mrs. Gaddesden was to have the South rooms.

‘I said the East rooms!’

‘But I thought—­’ Elizabeth began, in consternation.

‘You thought wrong,’ said the Squire cuttingly.  ’Do not trouble yourself.  I will tell Forest’

Elizabeth coloured crimson, and went on with her work.  The Squire rang the bell.  But before Forest could answer it, there was a quick step in the passage, and Desmond came bursting in.

’Pater, I say! it’s too fine!  You can’t frowst all day at this nonsense.  Come out, and let’s shoot those roots of Milsom’s.  He told me yesterday there were five or six coveys in his big field alone.  Of course everybody’s been poaching for all they’re worth.  But there’s some left.  Forest’ll get us some sandwiches.  He says he’ll come and load for you.  His boy and the garden boy’ll do for beaters.’

The Squire stood glumly hesitating, but with his eye on his son.