ded. 'The contractor
can't get the men. Of course, he _wants_ to cut and move the trees
as soon as he can, so as to get his money back.'

'That's his affair,' said the Squire obstinately. 'I want to get my
woods in a decent state again, so that I mayn't be for ever reminded
that I sold them--betrayed them--for filthy lucre.'

'No!' said Elizabeth firmly, her colour rising, 'for the Army!'

The Squire shrugged his shoulders.

'So they say. Meanwhile the timber-man makes an unholy profit.'

There was silence for a moment, then Elizabeth said,

'Do you really mean to stick to that condition?'

'I should be glad if Dell would see to it.'

'Then'--said Elizabeth slowly--'the contract will drop. I understand
they cannot possibly pledge themselves to removal within the time
named.'

'Well, there are other timber-merchants.'

'The difficulty of labour is the same for everybody. And Captain
Dell thinks no one else would give the price--certainly not the
Government. You will remember that some of the money was to be spent
immediately.' Her tone was cold and restrained, but he thought it
trembled a little.

'I know,' he interrupted, 'on cottages and the hospital. Money oozes
away at every pore! I shall be a bare beggar after the war. Have you
the contract there? Or did Dell take it?'

Elizabeth drew a roll of blue paper out of her pocket. Her
indignation made her speechless. All the endless negotiations,
Captain Dell's work, her work--to go for nothing! What was the use
of trying to serve--to work with such a man?

The Squire took the roll from her and searched his pockets for a
fountain-pen.

'I will make some notes on it now for Dell's guidance. I might
forget it to-night.'

Elizabeth said nothing. He turned away, spread out the papers on the
smooth trunk of the fallen tree, and began to write.

Elizabeth sat very erect, her mouth proudly set, her eyes wandering
into the distance of the wood. What was she to do? The affront to
herself was gross--for the Squire had definitely promised her the
night before that the bargain should go through. And she felt hotly
for the hard-working agent. Should she put up with it? Her
meditations of the night recurred to her--and she seemed to herself
a very foolish woman!

'There you are!' said the Squire, as he handed the roll back to her.

She looked at it unwillingly. Then her face changed. She
stooped over the contract. Below the signature of the firm of
timber-mercha