essed even a
hope as to the legatee's political convictions.

Miss Gallup went back to Redmarley. Eloquent sold the outfitting
business, and went to London to study parliamentary business from the
stranger's gallery.

CHAPTER III

ANOTHER OF THEM

A young man was walking through Redmarley woods towards Redmarley
village, and from time to time he gazed sorrowfully at his boots. There
had been a lot of rain that winter, and now on this, the third Sunday in
December, the pathway was covered with mud, which, when it was not
sticky, was extremely slippery.

The young man walked rather slowly, twirling a smart cane as he went, and
presently he burst into speech--more accurately--a speech.

"What, gentlemen," he demanded, loudly and rhetorically, "but no--I will
not call you gentlemen; here to-night, I note it with pride and gladness,
there are but few who can claim that courtesy title. I who speak, and
most of you who do me the honour to listen, can lay claim to no prouder
appellation than that of MEN. What then, fellow-men, I ask you, what
_is_ the House of Lords? What purpose does it serve except to delay all
beneficent legislation, to waste the country's time and to nullify the
best efforts. . . . Confound . . ."

He slipped, he staggered, his hat went one way, his stick another, and he
sat down violently and with a splash in a particularly large puddle. And
at that instant he was suddenly beset by a dog--a curiously long-legged
fox-terrier--who came bouncing round him with short rushes and sharp
barks. He had reached a part of the woods where the paths cross. Fir
trees were very thick just there, and footsteps made hardly any sound in
the soft mud.

A tall girl came quickly round the corner, calling "Parker!" and pulled
up short as she beheld the stranger seated ingloriously in the puddle.
But it was only for a moment; she hastened towards him, rebuking the dog
as she came: "Be quiet, Parker, how rude of you, come off now, come to
heel"--then, as he of the puddle, apparently paralysed by his undignified
position, made no effort to arise, on reaching him she held out her
hands, saying; "I wouldn't _sit_ there if I were you, it's so awfully
wet. Shall I pull you up? Dig your heels in, that's it. I say, you are
in a mess!"

He was.

The leggy fox-terrier ceased to bark. Instead, he thrust an inquisitive
nose into the stranger's bowler hat and sniffed dubiously.

The girl was strong and had p