So George walked to Brimmleton, where he was a foreigner, and despatched the telegram to Crampy, accepting his offer for the vases and pressing for a reply immediately, as he was very much afraid Jenkins might leak a little upon his return to London. Then he turned aside to the lonely farm, where half-savage children no longer rolled in the mud, noting with approval the effect of hard labour in the shape of reclaimed land and well drained fields. The Brocks, if vicious, were at least not idle; and George was always well pleased at discovering signs of human industry which convinced him that the race was by no means decadent. Nearing the house he walked warily; and here a shocking spectacle was presented. He saw a young girl--the same infamous young person--most daintily attired, seated upon a boulder near the door, wearing over her pretty frock a deplorable type of beribboned and belaced apron, perusing a volume with a lurid binding which assuredly was teaching her terrible things. And he saw the old man--the grandfather--approach with a mattock on his shoulder; and he pulled her hair; while she shouted at him--some nameless jest, doubtless, but happily George could not hear the words. Presently Sidney appeared--for it was nearly dinner time--and the worst happened. The abandoned young creature jumped up and ran towards him, with an expression, described mentally by George as one of ready-made affection, upon her pretty face; and, as they walked into the house, the wicked young man passed his arm around the waist of the shameless damsel. The watcher groaned in spirit, although he could not altogether escape from the idea that the ungodly were not necessarily to be pitied in this world. Then he walked to the house and knocked at the door. The scuffling sound of young women in flight caused him to shake his head again. "So 'tis you, Mr. Drake! You'm quite a stranger," exclaimed Sidney readily enough, though in George's opinion his face wore a hunted look. "I'd like to have a few words with you," he replied. "Right," said Sidney, looking back into the house to call, "Tell Dolly not to hurry wi' the dinner, grandfather." "Dolly!" groaned George, somewhat enviously. He had clung to the hope that the girl's name might turn out to be Jane. "You know, Sidney, I don't bear you any ill-feeling," he began, when they stood a few paces from the house, although his eyes were stricken with horror at discovering the young woman had been reading a book printed in French. "But there's some very loud talk up in Highfield about you and your goings on with the ladies." "We have nought to do wi' Highfield volk, and we don't care that much vor their talk," replied Sidney, snapping his fingers. "They are threatening to mob you," George whispered. "Not they," laughed Sidney. "They ain't got it in 'em, and if a crowd did come down along me and grandfather would settle the lot."