e this afternoon.

A week later Mr. Ruddiman again ascended the hill, and, after listening
patiently to the narrative which he had heard fifty times, came to an
arrangement with Mr. Fouracres about the room he wished to rent for the
holidays. The terms were very moderate, and the under-master congratulated
himself on this prudent step. He felt sure that a couple of months at the
Pig and Whistle would be anything but disagreeable. The situation was high
and healthy; the surroundings were picturesque. And for society, well,
there was Miss Fouracres, whom Mr. Ruddiman regarded as a very sensible and
pleasant person.

Of course, no one at Longmeadows had an inkling of the under-master's
intention. On the day of 'breaking up' he sent his luggage, as usual, to
the nearest railway station, and that same evening had it conveyed by
carrier to the little wayside inn, where, much at ease in mind and body, he
passed his first night.

He had a few books with him, but Mr. Ruddiman was not much of a reader. In
the garden of the inn, or somewhere near by, he found a spot of shade, and
there, pipe in mouth, was content to fleet the hours as they did in the
golden age. Now and then he tried to awaken his host's interest in
questions of national finance. It was one of Mr. Ruddiman's favourite
amusements to sketch Budgets in anticipation of that to be presented by the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he always convinced himself that his own
financial expedients were much superior to those laid before Parliament.
All sorts of ingenious little imposts were constantly occurring to him, and
his mouth watered with delight at the sound of millions which might thus be
added to the national wealth. But to Mr. Fouracres such matters seemed
trivial. A churchwarden between his lips, he appeared to listen, sometimes
giving a nod or a grunt; in reality his thoughts were wandering amid bygone
glories, or picturing a day of brilliant revenge.

Much more satisfactory were the conversations between Mr. Ruddiman and his
host's daughter; they were generally concerned with the budget, not of the
nation, but of the Pig and Whistle. Miss Fouracres was a woman of much
domestic ability; she knew how to get the maximum of comfort out of small
resources. But for her the inn would have been a wretched little place--as,
indeed, it was before her time. Miss Fouracres worked hard and prudently.
She had no help; the garden, the poultry, all the cares of house and inn