So Fairburn grumbled and rebuilt his few wrecked sheds, his grumblings dying out as the work proceeded.  George’s own thoughts were bitter enough, however, so far as Matthew Blackett was concerned.  He could not get it out of his head that the young squire, as the folks around styled Matthew, was at the bottom of the riot and indeed secretly its ringleader.

A month or two passed away, and spring came.  One day the elder Fairburn, on his return from London in his collier, made a great announcement.

“I’ve got you a grand place, my lad,” he said.  “It is in the office of Mr. Allan, one of the finest shipping-merchants in London.  ’Tis a very great favour, and will be the making of you, if you prove to be the lad I take you to be.  You are now fifteen, and it is time you went from home to try your fortune; in fact, you’ll be all the better away from here—­for certain reasons I need not go into.  You are a lucky lad, George,—­I wish I had had half your chance when I was in my teens.”

The son knew very well from his father’s tone and manner that it was useless to argue the matter with him.  To London he would have to go, and he prepared to face the unwelcome prospect like a man.

Yet, to add to his chagrin and disappointment, there came to him just at that time the news that young Blackett was proposing to enter the army as soon as he was old enough.  The Squire was anxious that his son should have a commission, and as he was wealthy, and his party was now decidedly winning in the political race, there would not only be no difficulties in Matthew’s way, but a fine prospect of advancement for the youth.

“Who would have thought that that lanky weakling would choose a soldier’s trade!” George Fairburn said to himself.  “I had quite expected him to go to Oxford and become either a barrister or a bishop.  He’s a lucky fellow!  And I—­I am—­well, never mind; it’s silly to go on in this way.  I don’t like Blackett, but I am bound to confess he’s got good fighting stuff in him.”

When William III was on his deathbed he is reported to have said, “I see another scene, and could wish to live a little longer.”  His keen political foresight was soon confirmed.  It was in March, 1702, he died; in the May of the same year war was proclaimed, the combination of powers known as the Grand Alliance on the one side, Louis XIV, the Grand Monarque, on the other.  The nations belonging to the Grand Alliance were at first England, Holland, and the Empire; at later dates Sweden, Denmark, and most of the States of Germany came in, a strong league.  But it was needed.  Louis was the most powerful sovereign in Europe, and France the richest nation.  To its resources were added those of Spain and her dependencies; for the most part, at any rate, for there were portions even of Spain which would have preferred the Archduke Charles to Philip of France, and it was the cause of Charles that England and the other members of the Alliance were espousing.  Thus began the war known in history as the War of the Spanish Succession, which for several years gave work to some of the most remarkable generals in European story.