I suppose. The whole thing
is one of the most ridiculous mistakes that ever was made. It has
absolutely come to pass that here, in the middle of Wiltshire, with
all our maps, and surveys, and parish records, no one concerned has
known to whom belonged a quarter of an acre of land in the centre
of the village. It is just a thing to write an article about in a
newspaper; but I can't say that one party is more to blame than the
other; that is, in regard to the ignorance displayed."

"And what will you do, Frank?"

"Nothing."

"You will do nothing, Frank?"

"I will do nothing; but I will take care to let the Marquis know the
nature of his generosity. I fancy that I am bound to take on myself
that labour, and I must say that it won't trouble me much to have to
write the letter."

"You won't pull it down, Frank?"

"No, my dear."

"I would, before a week was over."

"So would I," said Mary. "I don't think it ought to be there."

"Of course it ought not to be there," said Mrs. Fenwick.

"They might as well have it here in the garden," said Mary.

"Just the same," said Mrs. Fenwick.

"It is not in the garden; and, as it has been built, it shall
remain,--as far as I am concerned. I shall rather like it, now that
I know I am the landlord. I think I shall claim a sitting." This was
the Vicar's decision on the Monday morning, and from that decision
the two ladies were quite unable to move him.

This occurred a day or two after the affair of the rubies, and at
a time when Mary was being very hard pressed to name a day for her
wedding. Of course such pressure had been the result of Mr. Gilmore's
success on that occasion. She had then resolutely gone to work to
overcome her own, and his, melancholy gloom, and, having in a great
degree succeeded, it was only natural that he should bring up that
question of his marriage day. She, when she had accepted him, had
done so with a stipulation that she should not be hurried; but we all
know what such stipulations are worth. Who is to define what is and
what is not hurry? They had now been engaged a month, and the Squire
was clearly of opinion that there had been no hurry. "September was
the nicest month in the year," he said, "for getting married and
going abroad. September in Switzerland, October among the Italian
lakes, November in Florence and Rome. So that they might get home
before Christmas after a short visit to Naples." That was the
Squire's programme, and his whole m