His chief feeling, then, at the outrage which had laid him captive in the enemy’s camp, was one of vague amusement, and curiosity.  People round about spoke fairly well of this Caradoc family.  There did not seem to be any lack of kindly feeling between them and their tenants; there was said to be no griping destitution, nor any particular ill-housing on their estate.  And if the inhabitants were not encouraged to improve themselves, they were at all events maintained at a certain level, by steady and not ungenerous supervision.  When a roof required thatching it was thatched; when a man became too old to work, he was not suffered to lapse into the Workhouse.  In bad years for wool, or beasts, or crops, the farmers received a graduated remission of rent.  The pottery-works were run on a liberal if autocratic basis.  It was true that though Lord Valleys was said to be a staunch supporter of a ‘back to the land’ policy, no disposition was shown to encourage people to settle on these particular lands, no doubt from a feeling that such settlers would not do them so much justice as their present owner.  Indeed so firmly did this conviction seemingly obtain, that Lord Valleys’ agent was not unfrequently observed to be buying a little bit more.

But, since in this life one notices only what interests him, all this gossip, half complimentary, half not, had fallen but lightly on the ears of the champion of Peace during his campaign, for he was, as has, been said, but a poor politician, and rode his own horse very much his own way.

While he stood there enjoying the view, he heard a small high voice, and became conscious of a little girl in a very shady hat so far back on her brown hair that it did not shade her; and of a small hand put out in front.  He took the hand, and answered: 

“Thank you, I am well—­and you?” perceiving the while that a pair of wide frank eyes were examining his leg.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not to speak of.”

“My pony’s leg was blistered.  Granny is coming to look at it.”

“I see.”

“I have to go now.  I hope you’ll soon be better.  Good-bye!”

Then, instead of the little girl, Courtier saw a tall and rather florid woman regarding him with a sort of quizzical dignity.  She wore a stiffish fawn-coloured dress that seemed to be cut a little too tight round her substantial hips, for it quite neglected to embrace her knees.  She had on no hat, no gloves, no ornaments, except the rings on her fingers, and a little jewelled watch in a leather bracelet on her wrist.  There was, indeed, about her whole figure an air of almost professional escape from finery.

Stretching out a well-shaped but not small hand, she said: 

“I most heartily apologize to you, Mr. Courtier.”

“Not at all.”

“I do hope you’re comfortable.  Have they given you everything you want?”

“More than everything.”