"Perhaps there is a little of that in her manner, until you get accustomed to her, that is. But after all, it's a very pardonable fault; more than made up for by the corresponding virtue of neatness," replied this veteran martinet, who had been wont to visit with the severest penalties a single speck on shining boot or pipe-clayed belt when parading his men. "And she is as you say, a sensible girl--a very sensible girl--and she will have Ardleigh Court." "Indeed?" said Roland, in an uninterested tone. "Are there no sons, then?" "No. Only those two girls. Clara will come in for Ardleigh, as to that there is no doubt whatever. It is one of the finest places in the county, and adjoins this. You can just see the village away on the right as you come here from Wandsborough. Ah, Hubert, and have you come to do the `chimney' too?" as that hopeful burst unceremoniously into the room, pulling up short at the unwonted vision there of his father. "Well, I suppose you two fellows will be able to entertain each other, so I'll say good-night." For a moment Hubert sat in silence. Then he opened the door and looked out, and returning to his seat gave vent to a low, prolonged whistle of astonishment. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "What the very deuce is in the wind now, that the gallant veteran should condescend to honour this classic den with his high and mighty presence?" "Doesn't he ever, then?" "Never; never by any chance. And so confoundedly affable as he was, too. Well, it beats me." "Perhaps he's going to turn over a new leaf and develop a vein of sociability hitherto undiscovered. It's never too late to mend, you know," said the other nonchalantly. CHAPTER NINE. "YOU HERE!" "Before Colonel Neville, Mr Pagnell and the Rev John Croft, Stephen Devine, a notorious offender, charged with snaring two leverets in a field on the outskirts of Cranston Manor Farm"--began the reporter for the local news, scratching away vigorously with his spluttering quill. The hall in which Petty Sessions were held at Wandsborough was not by its imposing dimensions calculated to impress anybody with the majesty of the law. It was small, low ceiled and badly lighted. Prisoner and witnesses, constables and magistrates' clerk all seemed jumbled up together in the cramped space; while their worships themselves were only separated from the common herd by a long, narrow table. A most inconvenient room in fact, and times out of number had the Bench agitated for its enlargement, or better still, for the construction of another. All in vain. The justices had to go on sitting in the stuffy den, an infliction sufficient to bring them together in a state of ill-humour most unpropitious to the culprit. Even their genial and kind-hearted chairman, Colonel Neville, was wont to wax irritable under the circumstances--while constitutionally sterner stuff such as Mr Pagnell or General Dorrien was more than likely to err on the side of severity.