Elizabeths Campaign | Page 3

entering a park,
evidently of wide extent, and finely wooded. The road through it had
long fallen out of repair, and was largely grass-grown. A few sheep

were pasturing on it, and a few estate cottages showed here and there.
Sir Henry looked about him with quick eyes. He understood that the
Inspection Sub-Committee, constituted under the Corn Production Act,
and on the look-out for grass-land to put under the plough, had
recommended the ploughing up of all this further end of Mannering
Park. It carried very few sheep under its present management; and the
herd of Jersey cattle that used to graze it had long since died out. As for
the game, it had almost gone--before the war. No use, either for
business or play!
Then--on this early autumn day of 1917--Sir Henry fell to musing on
the vast changes coming over England in consequence of the war. 'Who
would ever have believed that we--we should put ourselves to school as
we have done? Military service, rations, food-prices, all our businesses
"controlled," and now our land looked after! How much of it has come
to stay? Well, it won't affect me much! Ah! is that the Rector?'
For a hundred yards ahead of him he perceived a clerical figure, spare
and tall, in a wideawake hat, swinging towards him. The September sun
was westering, and behind the approaching man lay broad stretches of
wood, just showing here and there the first bronze and purple signs of
autumn.
The Rector, recognizing the solitary rider, waved his hand in welcome,
and Sir Henry pulled up. The two men, who were evidently personal
friends, exchanged greetings.
'You're going to the Hall, Sir Henry?' said the Rector.
Sir Henry described his business.
The Rector shook his head reflectively.
'You haven't announced yourself, I hope?'
'No, I took that simple precaution. I suppose he's already pretty
savage?'

'With whom? The Committee? Yes, you won't find him easy to deal
with. But just at present there's a distraction. His new secretary arrived
some weeks ago, and he now spends his whole time, from morning till
night, dictating to her and showing her his things.'
'Secretary? A woman? Good heavens! Who is she?'
'A great swell, I understand. Oxford First Class in Mods, Second in
Greats. I've only just seen her. A striking-looking person.'
'Why isn't she in France, or doing munition work?' growled Sir Henry.
'I don't know. I suppose she has her reasons. She seems patriotic
enough. But I've only exchanged a few words with her, at a very
hurried luncheon, at which, by the way, there was a great deal too much
to eat. She and Pamela disappeared directly afterwards.'
'Oh, so Pamela's at home? What's the name of the new woman? I
suppose she's to chaperon Pamela?'
'I shouldn't wonder. Her name is Miss Bremerton.'
'Beryl declares that Pamela is going to be a beauty--and clever besides.
She used to be a jolly child. But then they go to school and grow up
quite different. I've hardly seen her for a year and a half.'
'Well, you'll judge for yourself. Good luck to you! I don't envy you
your job.'
'Good Lord, no! But you see I'm Chairman of this blessed show, and
they all fixed on me to bell the cat. We want a hundred acres of the
Park, a new agent, notices for three farmers, etcetera!'
The Rector whistled. 'I shall wait, on tiptoe, to see what happens! What
are your powers?'
'Oh, tremendous!'
'So you have him? Well, good-day.'

And the Rector was passing on. But Sir Henry stooped over his horse's
neck--'As you know, perhaps, it would be very inconvenient to my poor
little Beryl if Mannering were to make a quarrel of it with me.'
'Ah, I gathered that she and Aubrey were engaged,' said the Rector
cordially. 'Best congratulations! Has the Squire behaved well?'
'Moderately. He declares he has no money to give them.'
'And yet he spent eighteen hundred pounds last week at that Christie
sale!' said the Rector with a laugh. 'And now I suppose the new
secretary will add fuel to the flame. I saw Pamela for a minute alone,
and she said Miss Bremerton was "just as much gone on Greek things
as father," and they were like a pair of lunatics when the new vases
came down.'
'Oh, blow the secretary!' said Sir Henry with exasperation. 'And
meanwhile his daughters can't get a penny out of him for any war
purpose whatever! Well, I must go on.'
They parted, and Sir Henry put his cob into a sharp trot which soon
brought him in sight of a distant building--low and
irregular--surrounded by trees, and by the wide undulating slopes of the
park.
'Dreadfully ugly place,' he said to himself, as the house grew plainer;