He continued to speak to himself.  In proportion as he grew aware of the unnecessary nervous agitation into which the drum was throwing him, he assumed an air of repose, and said to Wilfrid:  “Read the paper to-day?” and to Arabella, “Quiet family dinner, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir,” he remarked to Mr. Barrett, as if resuming an old conversation:  “I dare say, you’ve seen better marching in foreign parts.  Right—­left; right—­left.  Ha! ha!  And not so bad, not so bad, I call it! with their right—­left; right—­left.  Ha! ha!  You’ve seen better.  No need to tell me that.  But, in England, we look to the meaning of things.  We’re a practical people.  What’s more, we’re volunteers.  Volunteers in everything.  We can’t make a regiment of ploughmen march like clock-work in a minute; and we don’t want to.  But, give me the choice; I’ll back a body of volunteers any day.”

“I would rather be backed by them, sir,” said Mr. Barrett.

“Very good.  I mean that.  Honest intelligent industry backing rank and wealth!  That makes a nation strong.  Look at England!”

Mr. Barrett observed him stand out largely, as if filled by the spirit of the big drum.

That instrument now gave a final flourish and bang whereat Sound, as if knocked on the head, died languishingly.

And behold, a spokesman was seen in relief upon a background of grins, that were oddly intermixed with countenances of extraordinary solemnity.

The same commenced his propitiatory remarks by assuring the proprietor of Brookfield that he, the spokesman, and every man present, knew they had taken a liberty in coming upon Squire Pole’s grounds without leave or warning.  They knew likewise that Squire Pole excused them.

Chorus of shouts from the divining brethren.

Right glad they were to have such a gentleman as Squire Pole among them:  and if nobody gave him a welcome last year, that was not the fault of the Yellow-and-Blues.  Eh, my boys?

Groans and cheers.

Right sure was spokesman that Squire Pole was the friend of the poor man, and liked nothing better than to see him enjoy his holiday.  As why shouldn’t he enjoy his holiday now and then, and have a bit of relaxation as well as other men?

Acquiescent token on the part of the new dignitary, Squire Pole.

Spokesman was hereby encouraged to put it boldly, whether a man was not a man all the world over.

“For a’ that!” was sung out by some rare bookworm to rearward:  but no Scot being present, no frenzy followed the quotation.

It was announced that the Club had come to do homage to Squire Pole and ladies:  the Junction Club of Ipley and Hillford.  What did Junction mean?  Junction meant Harmony.  Harmonious they were, to be sure:  so they joined to good purpose.

Mr. Barrett sought Emilia’s eyes smilingly, but she was intent on the proceedings.