The Manor was long since furnished, and Richard entertained visitors.  He had provided himself with a housekeeper, as well as the three or four necessary servants, and kept a saddle-horse as well as that which drew his trap to and fro when he had occasion to go to Agworth station.  His establishment was still a modest one; all things considered, it could not be deemed inconsistent with his professions.  Of course, stories to the contrary got about; among his old comrades in London, thoroughgoing Socialists like Messrs. Cowes and Cullen, who perhaps thought themselves a little neglected by. the great light of the Union, there passed occasionally nods and winks, which were meant to imply much.  There were rumours of banqueting which went on at Wanley; the Manor was spoken of by some who had not seen it as little less than a palace—­nay, it was declared by one or two of the shrewder tongued that a manservant in livery opened the door, a monstrous thing if true.  Worse than this was the talk which began to spread among the Hoxton and Islington Unionists of a certain young woman in a poor position to whom Mutimer had in former days engaged himself, and whom be did not now find it convenient to marry.  A few staunch friends Richard had, who made it their business stoutly to contradict the calumnies which came within their hearing, Daniel Dabbs the first of them.  But even Daniel found himself before long preferring silence to speech on the subject of Emma Vine.  He grew uncomfortable about it, and did not know what to think.

The first of Richard’s visitors at the Manor were Mr. and Mrs. Westlake.  They came down from London one day, and stayed over till the next.  Other prominent members of the Union followed, and before the end of the autumn Richard entertained some dozen of the rank and file, all together, paying their railway fares and housing them from Saturday to Monday.  These men. be it noted in passing, distinguished themselves from that day onwards by unsparing detraction whenever the name of Mutimer came up in private talk, though, of course, they were the loudest in applause when platform reference to their leader demanded it.  Besides the expressly invited, there was naturally no lack of visitors who presented themselves voluntarily.  Among the earliest of these was Mr. Keene, the journalist.  He sent in his name one Sunday morning requesting an interview on a matter of business, and on being admitted, produced a copy of the ‘Belwick Chronicle,’ which contained a highly eulogistic semi-biographic notice of Mutimer.

‘I feel I ought to apologise to you for this liberty,’ said Keene, in his flowing way, ’and that is why I have brought the paper myself.  You will observe that it is one of a seris—­notable men of the day.  I supply the “Chronicle” with a London letter, and give them one of these little sketches fortnightly.  I knew your modesty would stand in the way if I consulted you in advance, so I can only beg pardon post delictum, as we say.’