Elizabeths Campaign | Page 8

food out of the land.'
Whereupon, in a manner rather provokingly reminiscent of a public
meeting, Sir Henry fell into a discourse on submarines, tonnage, the
food needs of our Allies, and the absolute necessity for undoing and
repairing the havoc of Cobdenism--matters of which the newspapers of
the day were commonly full. That the sound of his own voice was
agreeable to him might have been suspected.
Mr. Mannering roughly broke in upon him.

'What was that you said about ploughing up the park?'
'We ask you to break up fifty acres of it near the Fallerton end, and
perhaps some other bits elsewhere. This first bit is so far from the
house you'll never notice it; and the land ought to do very well if it's
properly broken and trampled down.'
The Squire sat up and began to tick things off on the fingers of his left
hand.
'Let me understand. You want me to give three of my farmers notice to
quit--Gregson first of all--for bad farming; you ask me to plough up
fifty acres of my park; and you have the goodness to suggest that I
should cut some of my woods.'
Sir Henry realized that possibly a strain on his temper was coming, but
he felt sure he could stand it.
'That is what we suggest--for your own advantage and the country's.'
'And pray who are "_we_"? I don't yet understand that clearly.'
'"We,"' said Sir Henry patiently, 'are the County War Agricultural
Committee, formed for the express purpose of getting more food out of
the land, and so making these islands self-supporting.'
'And if I refuse, what can you do?'
'Well, I'm afraid,' said Sir Henry, smiling uncomfortably, 'we can act
without you.'
'You can turn out my farmers, and plough my land, as you please?'
'Our powers are very wide.'
'Under--what do you call the beastly thing?--"Dora"--the Defence of the
Realm Act?'
Sir Henry nodded.

The Squire rose and began to pace up and down, his hands under his
coat-tails, his long spider legs and small feet picking their way in and
out of the piles and boxes on the floor. At last he turned impetuously.
'Look here, Chicksands, I shall not give that man warning!'
Sir Henry surveyed the lanky figure standing opposite to him.
'I should be very sorry, Mannering, to see you take that course,' he said,
smiling and amiable as before. 'In some ways, of course, I am no more
in love with some of the Government's proceedings than you are. We
landlords may have to defend ourselves. I want, if I may say so, to keep
your influence intact for the things that really matter. You and I, and all
the other Brookshire landlords, may have, at some point, to act together.
But we shall resist unreasonable demands much more easily if we
accept the reasonable ones.'
The Squire shook his head. The suave tone of the speaker had clearly
begun to rasp his nerves.
'No! You and I have really nothing in common. You may take it from
me that I shall not give these men notice. What happens then?'
'The Government steps in,' said Sir Henry quietly.
'And turns them out? Very well, let them. And the park?'
'We are, of course, most anxious to consult you.'
'Excuse me, that's nonsense! I refuse--that's flat.'
Sir Henry shrugged his shoulders. His tone became a trifle colder.
'I can't believe that you will refuse. You can't deny--no sensible man
could--that we've simply got to grow more food at home. The
submarines have settled that for us.'
'Who brought the submarines upon us? The politicians! No politicians,
no war! If it hadn't been for a pack of idiots called diplomats making

mischief abroad, and a pack of incompetents called politicians unable
to keep their heads at home, there'd have been no war. It's Russia's
war--France's war! Who asked the country whether it wanted a war?
Who asked _me_?' The Squire, standing opposite to Sir Henry, tapped
his chest vehemently.
'The country is behind the war,' said Chicksands firmly.
'How do we know? How do you know? I've as much right to an opinion
as you, and I tell you the country is sick and tired of the war. We are all
dying of the war! We shall all be paupers because of the war! What is
France to me, or Belgium? We shall have lost men, money,
security--half the things that make life worth living--for what?'
'Honour!' said Sir Henry sharply, as he got on his feet.
'_Honour_!' sneered Mannering--'what's honour? It means one thing to
me and another to you. Aubrey bangs me over the head with it. But I'm
like the Doctor in the Punch and Judy show--he thinks he's knocked me
flat. He hasn't. I've a new argument every