e grand old
medieval Christmas festivities, hugged to his heart the thought of
holding such revels as should make Christmas at The Beeches an
institution in the countryside.

But, alas! the London merchant had become a country gentleman too late
in life to appreciate the great gulf which lies between the
sixteenth-century peasant (of the modern imagination) and the
nineteenth-century villager of actual fact. His own small army from the
stable and the garden were powerless to cope with the disorderly mob
they had been encouraged to invite in this interesting celebration. And
those most mischievous and conspicuous roughs whom the coachman had
driven off with the whip on the way up, revenged themselves for this
drastic treatment by coming in through the front gate of the park,
breaking down the fence between park and garden, and every obstacle to
their barbaric progress.

It was "Poaching Wilson" who pulled the bell, after some difficulty in
finding the handle, owing to the liberality with which he had "treated
himself" as a preparation for the journey.

Max, alarmed at the invasion, had made his way round to the
billiard-room door at the back, bolted it on the inside, and hastened to
give directions to the servants to lock all the other doors, and to
secure the ground-floor windows.

Then he rushed into the hall, just as his father had come out from the
dining-room, serviette in hand, to learn the cause of the noise outside.

"Hello, Max! Is it you back again? And have you brought down half the
population of London with you?"

"No, sir, they didn't come with me. They are guests of yours, I
understand. And they expect to be treated to unlimited beer, so I gather
from their remarks. They've brought some firewood, I believe."

At this moment the clanging of the front-door bell resounded through the
house for the second time. The frightened butler, who was a young man
and rather nervous, stood by the door, not daring to open it. The ladies
of the household had by this time come out of the dining-room; Mrs.
Wedmore looked flush and frightened; the girls were tittering. Smothered
explosions of laughter came from time to time to the ears of the master
of the house, from the closed door which led to the servants' hall.

"Shall--shall I see who it is, sir?" asked the butler, who could hear
the epithets applied to him on the other side of the door.

"No, no!" cried Doreen. "Not on any account! Tell them to put the thing