r the expense of keeping up Barracombe. One good tenant
after another lost because the landlord would keep nothing in repair;
gardener after gardener leaving for want of a shilling increase in
weekly wages. In case Sir Peter should turn out to resemble his
father, we had best not let the grass grow under our feet, Mr.
Crewys," said the shrewd gentleman, chuckling, "but take full
advantage of the powers entrusted to you for the next two years and
a quarter. Sir Peter, luckily, does not come of age until October,
1902."

"That is just what I intend to do," said John.

"Odd, isn't it," said the lawyer, confidentially, "how often a man
will put unlimited power into the hands of a comparative stranger, and
leave his own son tied hand and foot? Not a penny of all this capital
will Sir Peter ever have the handling of. Perhaps a good job too.
Oh, dear! when I look at the state of his affairs in general, I feel
positively guilty, and ashamed to have had even the nominal management
of them. But what could a man do under the circumstances? He paid for
my advice, and then acted directly contrary to it, and thought he had
done a clever thing, and outwitted his own lawyer. But now we shall
get things a bit straight, I hope. What about buying Speccot Farm, Mr.
Crewys? It's been our Naboth's vineyard for many a day; but we haggled
over the price, and couldn't make up our minds to give what the farmer
wants. He'll have to sell in the end, you know; but I suppose he could
hold out a few years longer if we don't give way."

"He's been to me already," said John. "The price he asked is no doubt
a bit above its proper value; but it's accommodation land, and it
would be disappointing if it slipped through our fingers. I propose to
offer him pretty nearly what he asks."

"He'll take it," said Mr. Crawley, with satisfaction. "I could never
make Sir Timothy see that it wouldn't pay the fellow to turn out
unless he got something over and above the value of his mortgages."

"The next thing I want you to arrange is the purchase of those
twenty acres of rough pasture and gorse, right in the centre of the
property," said John, "rented by the man who lives outside Youlestone,
at what they call Pott's farm, for his wretched, half-starved beasts
to graze upon. He's saved us the trouble of exterminating the rabbits
there, I notice."

"He's an inveterate poacher. A good thing to give him no further
excuse to hang about the place. What do you propos