“Lord, sir,” said George as he retired, “that ain’t the way that folks in these parts like to do business, that ain’t. Letter writing is all very well for Londoners and other furriners, but it don’t do here. Besides, sir, I shall hear you well enough up there. Sarvant, sir!” this to Edward Cossey, and he was gone. Edward burst out laughing, and the Squire looked after his retainer with a comical air. “No wonder that the place has got into a mess with such a fellow as that to manage it,” he said aloud. “The idea of hunting a man round the Poplars Farm like—like an Indian squaw! He’s a regular cadger, that’s what he is, and that’s all he’s fit for. However, it’s his way of doing business and I shan’t alter him. Well, Mr. Cossey,” he went on, “this is a very sad state of affairs, at any rate so far as I am concerned. I presume of course that you know of the steps which have been taken by Cossey and Son to force a foreclosure, for that is what it amounts to, though I have not as yet received the formal notice; indeed, I suppose that those steps have been taken under your advice.” “Yes, Mr. de la Molle, I know all about it, and here is the notice calling in the loans,” and he placed a folded paper on the table. “Ah,” said the Squire, “I see. As I remarked to your manager, Mr. Quest, yesterday, I think that considering the nature of the relationship which has existed for so many generations between our family and the business firm of which you are a member, considering too the peculiar circumstances in which the owners of land find themselves at this moment, and the ruinous loss—to put questions of sentiment aside—that must be inflicted by such sale upon the owner of property, more consideration might have been shown. However, it is useless to try to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, or to get blood from a stone, so I suppose that I must make the best of a bad job—and,” with a most polite bow—“I really do not know that I have anything more to say to you, Mr. Cossey. I will forward the notice to my lawyers; indeed I think that it might have been sent to them in the first instance.” Edward Cossey had all this while been sitting on an old oak chair, his eyes fixed upon the ground, and slowly swinging his hat between his legs. Suddenly he looked up and to the Squire’s surprise said quietly: “I quite agree with you. I don’t think that you can say anything too bad about the behaviour of my people. A Shoreditch Jew could not have done worse. And look here, Mr. de la Molle, to come to the point and prevent misunderstanding, I may as well say at once that with your permission, I am anxious to take up these mortgages myself, for two reasons; I regard them as a desirable investment even in the present condition of land, and also I wish to save Cossey and Son from the discredit of the step which they meditate.”