Jamie and I were on the watch for each arrival. We knew nearly all of these habitant-farmers. They hitched their "team", and spent hours with Mr. Ewart. Sometimes, when we were in the living-room, we could hear voices from the office in lively and earnest discussion. We remarked the air of pride and satisfaction with which each one unhitched his horse, climbed into his special conveyance, slapped the reins on his animal's back and was off with a merry "Bonnes nouvelles!" to his habitant-wife who, while waiting for her husband, had been in the kitchen exchanging courtesies with Angélique, and feasting on freshly fried doughnuts and hot coffee. The notary from Richelieu-en-Bas, as well as the county surveyor, were also closeted with Mr. Ewart; they arrived after breakfast and left before supper. At dinner they were our guests, but no business topics were mentioned. By Saturday, the routine of visitation was concluded. The notary departed with his green baize bag apparently bursting with documents. It was Angélique who informed us after his departure that the seignior had been receiving the seignioral rents with his own hand. The next morning at the breakfast table, Mr. Ewart asked me if I would help him to audit some accounts, the farmers having just paid their half-yearly rents. "At what hour?" I asked. "I shall need your help for the entire forenoon and probably for an hour or two after dinner. Shall we say at nine?" "Can't I help?" said Jamie, rather half-heartedly I must confess. Mr. Ewart took in the situation by the tone, and smiled as he answered: "No; you 're too busy with your work; the prose of figures would n't appeal to you just now." "Would n't they though! Try me on a check from my publisher." "It's the point of view, after all, that changes proportions, is n't it? Are you going to work in here?" "Yes; I need about four by eight feet of surface to keep my ideas from jostling one another, and this dining-room table is about the right fit when I 'm comparing pages of manuscript with first galley proofs." "Good luck, then; we 'll not disturb you till dinner." An hour later when I went into the office, I found Mr. Ewart at his desk. Beside him was a large tin box, twice as large as a bread-box. On top lay two pairs of his thick driving-gloves. I must have looked my surprise, for he laughed as he rose to place two chairs, one on each side of the only table in the room--a fine old square one of ancient curly birch, generally bare, but now covered with a square of oil cloth. "What next? I can't wait for developments to explain all this paraphernalia," I said; my curiosity was thoroughly roused. "These." He held out a pair of the driving-gloves. "You are to put them on, please, and not to take them off till I give you permission."