is bad enough in all conscience," said Ida, pushing at the
fireirons with her foot. "What is to be done?"

"What is to be done?" answered her father irritably. "How can I tell
you what is to be done? I suppose I must take the place in hand, that
is all."

"Yes, but that costs money, does it not?"

"Of course it does, it costs about four thousand pounds."

"Well," said Ida, looking up, "and where is all that sum to come from?
We have not got four thousand pounds in the world."

"Come from? Why I suppose that I must borrow it on the security of the
land."

"Would it not be better to let the place go out of cultivation, rather
than risk so much money?" she answered.

"Go out of cultivation! Nonsense, Ida, how can you talk like that? Why
that strong land would be ruined for a generation to come."

"Perhaps it would, but surely it would be better that the land should
be ruined than that we should be. Father, dear," she said appealingly,
laying one hand upon his shoulder, "do be frank with me, and tell me
what our position really is. I see you wearing yourself out about
business from day to day, and I know that there is never any money for
anything, scarcely enough to keep the house going; and yet you will
not tell me what we really owe--and I think I have a right to know."

The Squire turned impatiently. "Girls have no head for these things,"
he said, "so what is the use of talking about it?"

"But I am not a girl; I am a woman of six-and-twenty; and putting
other things aside, I am almost as much interested in your affairs as
you are yourself," she said with determination. "I cannot bear this
sort of thing any longer. I see that abominable man, Mr. Quest,
continually hovering about here like a bird of ill-omen, and I cannot
bear it; and I tell you what it is, father, if you don't tell me the
whole truth at once I shall cry," and she looked as though she meant
it.

Now the old Squire was no more impervious to a woman's tears than any
other man, and of all Ida's moods, and they were many, he most greatly
feared that rare one which took the form of tears. Besides, he loved
his only daughter more dearly than anything in the world except one
thing, Honham Castle, and could not bear to give her pain.

"Very well," he said, "of course if you wish to know about these
things you have a right to. I have desired to spare you trouble, that
is all; but as you are so very imperious, the best thing that I can do
is to let