of the management of the Bragton property.  His grandfather and his father had been powerful at Bragton, and he had been brought up in the hope of walking in their paths.  Then strangers had come in, and he had been dispossessed.  But how was it with him now?  It had almost made a young man of him again when Reginald Morton, stepping into his office, asked him as a favour to resume his old task.  But what was that in comparison with this later triumph?  His own child was to be made queen of the place!  His grandson, should she be fortunate enough to be the mother of a son, would be the squire himself!  His visits to the place for the last twenty years had been very rare indeed.  He had been sent for lately by old Mrs. Morton,—­for a purpose which if carried out would have robbed him of all his good fortune,—­but he could not remember when, before that, he had even passed through the gateway.  Now it would all become familiar to him again.  That pony of Runciman’s was pleasant in his paces, and he began to calculate whether the innkeeper would part with the animal.  He stood thus gazing at the place for some minutes till he saw Reginald Morton in the distance turning a corner of the road with Mary at his side.  He had taken her from the phaeton and had then insisted on her coming out with him before she took off her hat.  Mr. Masters as soon as he saw them trotted off to Chowton Farm.

Finding Larry lounging at the little garden gate Mr. Masters got off the pony and taking the young man’s arm, walked off with him towards Dillsborough Wood.  He told all his news at once, almost annihilating poor Larry by the suddenness of the blow.  “Larry, Mr. Reginald Morton has asked my girl to marry him, and she has accepted him.”

“The new squire!” said Larry, stopping himself on the path, and looking as though a gentle wind would suffice to blow him over.

“I suppose it has been that way all along, Larry, though we have not known it.”

“It was Mr. Morton then that she told me of?”

“She did tell you?”

“Of course there was no chance for me if he wanted her.  But why didn’t they speak out, so that I could have gone away?  Oh, Mr. Masters!”

“It was only yesterday she knew it herself.”

“She must have guessed it”

“No;—­she knew nothing till he declared himself.  And to-day, this very morning, she has bade me come to you and let you know it.  And she sent you her love.”

“Her love!” said Larry, chucking the stick which he held in his hands down to the ground and then stooping to pick it up again.

“Yes;—­her love.  Those were her words, and I am to tell you from her—­to be a man.”

“Did she say that?”

“Yes;—­I was to come out to you at once, and bring you that as a message from her.”

“Be a man!  I could have been a man right enough if she would have made me one; as good a man as Reginald Morton, though he is squire of Bragton.  But of course I couldn’t have given her a house like that, nor a carriage, nor made her one of the county people.  If it was to go in that way, what could I hope for?”