Would he ever come to Barham?  Well, if it came in the day’s work he would.  Yes:  certainly he’d be most obliged if his letters might be sent there, and he could write for them when he wanted, or even call for them, if, as he said, it came in the day’s work.

What was he going to do in the winter?  He hadn’t the slightest idea.  He supposed, what other people did in the winter.  Perhaps he’d have got a place by then—­gamekeeper, perhaps—­he’d like to be a gamekeeper.

At this Jack, mentally, threw up the sponge.

“You really mean to go on at this rotten idea of yours?”

Frank opened his eyes wide.

“Why, of course.  Good Lord! did you think I was bluffing?”

“But ... but it’s perfectly mad.  Why on earth don’t you get a proper situation somewhere—­land-agent or something?”

“My dear man,” said Frank, “if you will have it, it’s because I want to do exactly what I’m going to do.  No—­I’m being perfectly serious.  I’ve thought for ages that we’re all wrong somehow.  We’re all so beastly artificial.  I don’t want to preach, but I want to test things for myself.  My religion tells me—­” He broke off.  “No; this is fooling.  I’m going to do it because I’m going to do it.  And I’m really going to do it.  I’m not going to be an amateur—­like slumming.  I’m going to find out things for myself.”

“But on the roads—­” expostulated Jack.

“Exactly.  That’s the very point.  Back to the land.”

Jack sat up.

“Good Lord!” he said.  “Why, I never thought of it.”

“What?”

“It’s your old grandmother coming out.”

Frank stared.

“Grandmother?”

“Yes—­old Mrs. Kelly.”

Frank laughed suddenly and loudly.

“By George!” he said, “I daresay it is.  Old Grandmamma Kelly!  She was a gipsy—­so she was.  I believe you’ve hit it, Jack.  Let’s see:  she was my grandfather’s second wife, wasn’t she?”

Jack nodded.

“And he picked her up off the roads on his own estate.  Wasn’t she trespassing, or something?”

Jack nodded again.

“Yes,” he said, “and he was a magistrate and ought to have committed her:  And he married her instead.  She was a girl, traveling with her parents.”

Frank sat smiling genially.

“That’s it,” he said.  “Then I’m bound to make a success of it.”

And he took another cigarette.

Then one more thought came to Jack:  he had determined already to make use of it if necessary, and somehow this seemed to be the moment.

“And Jenny Launton,” he said “I suppose you’ve thought of her?”

A curious look came into Frank’s eyes—­a look of great gravity and tenderness—­and the humor died out.  He said nothing for an instant.  Then he drew out of his breast-pocket a letter in an envelope, and tossed it gently over to Jack.

“I’m telling her in that,” he said.  “I’m going to post it to-night, after I’ve seen the Dean.”