distant relation who had spent most of her life at Garth; who considered the Squire the first of men, his will as law, and who from Josina’s earliest days had set her an example of servile obedience. To ask what Mr. Griffin did not offer, to doubt where he had laid down the law, was to Miss Peacock flat treason; and where a stronger mind might have moulded the girl to a firmer shape, the old maid’s influence had wrought in the other direction. A tall meagre spinster, a weak replica of the Squire, she came of generations of women who had been ruled by their men and trained to take the second place. The Squire’s two wives, his first, whose only child had fallen, a boy-ensign, at Alexandria, his second, Josina’s mother, had held the same tradition, and Josina promised to abide by it. 

 When the Peacock rose Jos hesitated. The Squire saw it. “Do you go, girl,” he said. “Be off!” 

 For once she wavered—she feared what might happen between the two. But “Do you hear?” the Squire growled. “Go when you are told.” 

 She went then, but Arthur could not restrain his indignation. “Poor Jos!” he muttered. 

 Unluckily the Squire heard the words, and “Poor Jos!” he repeated, scowling at the offender. “What the devil do you mean, sir? Poor Jos, indeed? Confound your impudence! What do you mean?” 

 Arthur quailed, but he was not lacking in wit. “Only that women like a secret, sir,” he said. “And a woman, shut out, fancies that there is a secret.” 

 “Umph! A devilish lot you know about women!” the old man snarled. “But never mind that. I saw your mother yesterday.” 

 “So she told me, sir.” 

 “Ay! And I dare say you didn’t like what she told you! But I want you to understand, young man, once for all, that you’ve got to choose between Aldersbury and Garth. Do you hear? I’ve done my duty. I kept the living for you, as I promised your father, and whether you take it or not, I expect you to do yours, and to live as the Griffins have lived before you. Who the devil is this man Ovington? Why do you want to mix yourself up with him? Eh? A man whose father touched his hat to me and would no more have thought of sitting at my table than my butler would! There, pass the bottle.” 

 “Would you have no man rise, sir?” Arthur ventured. 

 “Rise?” The Squire glared at him from under his great bushy eyebrows. “It’s 

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