Two hours later, with torn and blackened clothes, the Squire stood by the ruins of the barn.  The fire was out, but the ashes were still smouldering.  The spaniel John, anxious, panting, was licking his master’s boots, as though begging forgiveness that he had been so frightened, and kept so far away.  Yet something in his eye seemed to be saying: 

“Must you really have these fires, master?”

A black hand grasped the Squire’s arm, a hoarse voice said: 

“I shan’t forget, Squire!”

“God bless me, Peacock!” returned Mr. Pendyce, “that’s nothing!  You’re insured, I hope?’

“Aye, I’m insured; but it’s the beasts I’m thinking of!”

“Ah!” said the Squire, with a gesture of horror.

The brougham took him and the Rector back together.  Under their feet crouched their respective dogs, faintly growling at each other.  A cheer from the crowd greeted their departure.

They started in silence, deadly tired.  Mr. Pendyce said suddenly: 

“I can’t get those poor beasts out of my head, Barter!”

The Rector put his hand up to his eyes.

“I hope to God I shall never see such a sight again!  Poor brutes, poor brutes!”

And feeling secretly for his dog’s muzzle, he left his hand against the animal’s warm, soft, rubbery mouth, to be licked again and again.

On his side of the brougham Mr. Pendyce, also unseen, was doing precisely the same thing.

The carriage went first to the Rectory, where Mrs. Barter and her children stood in the doorway.  The Rector put his head back into the brougham to say: 

“Good-night, Pendyce.  You’ll be stiff tomorrow.  I shall get my wife to rub me with Elliman!”

Mr. Pendyce nodded, raised his hat, and the carriage went on.  Leaning back, he closed his eyes; a pleasanter sensation was stealing over him.  True, he would be stiff to-morrow, but he had done his duty.  He had shown them all that blood told; done something to bolster up that system which was-himself.  And he had a new and kindly feeling towards Peacock, too.  There was nothing like a little danger for bringing the lower classes closer; then it was they felt the need for officers, for something!

The spaniel John’s head rose between his knees, turning up eyes with a crimson touch beneath.

‘Master,’ he seemed to say, ’I am feeling old.  I know there are things beyond me in this life, but you, who know all things, will arrange that we shall be together even when we die.’

The carriage stopped at the entrance of the drive, and the Squire’s thoughts changed.  Twenty years ago he would have beaten Barter running down that lane.  Barter was only forty-five.  To give him fourteen years and a beating was a bit too much to expect:  He felt a strange irritation with Barter—­the fellow had cut a very good figure!  He had shirked nothing.  Elliman was too strong!  Homocea was the thing.  Margery would have to rub him!  And suddenly, as though springing naturally from the name of his wife, George came into Mr. Pendyce’s mind, and the respite that he had enjoyed from care was over.  But the spaniel John, who scented home, began singing feebly for the brougham to stop, and beating a careless tail against his master’s boot.