of time to work up the constituency before we kick out these infernal Rads.  Carpetbagger against you; if you go hard at it in the summer, it’ll be odd if you don’t manage to get in your three days a week, next season.  You can take Rocketer and that four-year-old—­he’s well up to your weight, fully eight and a half inches of bone.  You’ll only want one other.  And if Miss—­if your wife means to hunt——­

Bill.  You’ve chosen my wife, then?

Sir William. [With a quick look] I imagine, you’ve some girl in your mind.

Bill.  Ah!

Sir William:  Used not to be unnatural at your age.  I married your mother at twenty-eight.  Here you are, eldest son of a family that stands for something.  The more I see of the times the more I’m convinced that everybody who is anybody has got to buckle to, and save the landmarks left.  Unless we’re true to our caste, and prepared to work for it, the landed classes are going to go under to this infernal democratic spirit in the air.  The outlook’s very serious.  We’re threatened in a hundred ways.  If you mean business, you’ll want a wife.  When I came into the property I should have been lost without your mother.

Bill.  I thought this was coming.

Sir William. [With a certain geniality] My dear fellow, I don’t want to put a pistol to your head.  You’ve had a slack rein so far.  I’ve never objected to your sowing a few wild oats-so long as you —­er—­[Unseen by sir William, Bill makes a sudden movement] Short of that—­at all events, I’ve not inquired into your affairs.  I can only judge by the—­er—­pecuniary evidence you’ve been good enough to afford me from time to time.  I imagine you’ve lived like a good many young men in your position—­I’m not blaming you, but there’s a time for all things.

Bill.  Why don’t you say outright that you want me to marry Mabel Lanfarne?

Sits William.  Well, I do.  Girl’s a nice one.  Good family—­got a little money—­rides well.  Isn’t she good-looking enough for you, or what?

Bill.  Quite, thanks.

Sir William.  I understood from your mother that you and she were on good terms.

Bill.  Please don’t drag mother into it.

Sir William. [With dangerous politeness] Perhaps you’ll be good enough to state your objections.

Bill.  Must we go on with this?

Sir William.  I’ve never asked you to do anything for me before; I expect you to pay attention now.  I’ve no wish to dragoon you into this particular marriage.  If you don’t care for Miss Lanfarne, marry a girl you’re fond of.

Bill.  I refuse.

Sir William.  In that case you know what to look out for. [With a sudden rush of choler] You young.... [He checks himself and stands glaring at Bill, who glares back at him] This means, I suppose, that you’ve got some entanglement or other.