Alick now drew in his horse and called again: "Triddelfitz."--"Coming, Mr. von Rambow," answered Fred from out of the straw.--"What devil drove you to ride so hard?" asked Alick.--"None," said Fred, getting up, and finding to his great joy that he had met with no injury, "I was riding one, that's all, and I think that Bill ran away with me."--"You're right enough there," said Christian, who had come out of the stable to see what was the matter. "You gee, Sir," turning to Mr. von Rambow, "the count used to ride Bill in steeple-chases, and when once the beast gets his head, he goes on till he finds a fence or hurdle to jump, and after he has had a good run he stands as quiet as a lamb. Just look at him now."--"Alick," asked Mrs. von Rambow, who now came up, "what is it?"--"Nothing, my dear; I had given Triddelfitz an order, and no sooner had he ridden off than a better plan occurred to me, so I followed him to make the desired change, but his horse ran away with him, and I went in pursuit."--"Thank God it was no worse," she said. "But, Alick, won't you come in and have some tea?"--"Yes," he said, "I've been working very hard to-day and am rather tired. Triddelfitz, just go on as we have been doing."--"All right, Sir," answered Fred, and then Alick went back to the house with his wife. "Alick," she asked, when they were seated at tea, "I don't understand. The harvest waggons used always to come into the yard one by one as they were filled, at my father's place, but I see that you're making them come in a string of six."--"I know the old-fashioned way perfectly, Frida dear, but I think that it's a bad way, and one in which it's impossible to keep order; while if you have a train of six waggons you can easily maintain order."--"Did Hawermann arrange it in that way?"--"Hawermann? No. He has nothing whatever to do with it. I have at last found it necessary to emancipate myself from the bailiffs leading-strings, and have told him that I intend to bring in the harvest without his assistance."--"Alick, what have you done! He'll never stand that."--"He must though. He must learn that _I_ am master here."--"He has always treated you as such. Dear Alick, what you have done to day cannot fail to do us a great deal of harm," and she leant back in her chair in deep and painful thought.--Alick felt uncomfortable and a little cross.--The door opened and Daniel Sadenwater brought in a letter: "With Mr. Hawermann's compliments."--"There it is," said Frida.--Alick read the letter: "The bailiff gives up his place at Christmas. He may go now for all I care. I don't require a bailiff. Besides that, I could get a hundred instead of him if I liked. I'm only sorry that it was he who gave up his place, not I who told him to go," and starting to his feet, he began to walk up and down the room. Frida sat still, and said nothing. Alick felt that her silence was meant as a reproach. He knew that he was in a difficult position, but that he must not confess it even to himself,