Lionel betrayed distress. Fishpingle’s expression brought back the qualms which kindly sleep had banished. “She’s so sweet,” he murmured. Fishpingle nodded. “She is, Master Lionel. You’ve chosen a wife, sweet as a field the Lord has blessed. She’ll make your life and the lives of others as fragrant as her own.” “If you feel that, why can’t father feel the same, after—after the first disappointment? Of course, you guessed his little plan. Everybody did. When I passed round the field with that little plan on Saturday, I heard snickers—and so did she.” “That clean bowled me, Master Lionel. I saw you together. It was too much for me. I missed an easy ball, because one eye was on you.” “How shall we break this to father?” “We?” “You old humbug. I measure your power with the Squire.” Fishpingle answered with dignity: “I have never measured that power or abused it, such as it is. And I owe everything, everything, to your family.” “And what do we owe you?” Lionel spoke warmly. “You have devoted yourself to us.” “Most gladly.” “And my father doesn’t quite see it. He takes what you have done for granted—as I did. It hurts me.” “Your father is dear to me as a brother, Master Lionel. I venture to hope that I am more than a faithful servant to him.” “Of course you are. Am I a coward because I ask your help?” “I am the coward.” “You?” Fishpingle spread out his hands. When he spoke his voice was low and troubled. “I am quaking with fear.” He held out a trembling hand. Lionel seized it and pressed it. Then he went on, confidently: “Joyce, the blessed honey-pot, has everything except money.” “Which is so badly needed here.” “I’m hanged if you’re not depressing me.” Fishpingle made another gesture before he replied, selecting carefully each word: “If you ask for my help, it’s yours. But the Squire may resent interference on the part of his butler. It might lead to a breach, to—to my dismissal from his service. That possibility, Master Lionel, makes a coward of me. And if such a dreadful thing happened, it would make matters ten times as hard for you. You are dependent on him.” “Not absolutely. I could exchange into another regiment. I——” he broke off suddenly. “I won’t admit that father’s heart is flint. But, rain or shine, my Joyce will stick to me, and I to her.” “Amen, to that.” “Now, what do you advise? When I was in debt, you said: ‘Tackle him at once!’ What do you say now?” Fishpingle got up, and began to pace the floor, a trick of the Squire’s when much perturbed. Lionel appraised that perturbation too lightly. He said gaily: “You and I must downscramble Squire.” Fishpingle stood still. “And her little ladyship?” “I deal with her to-day, out hunting. We are good friends. So far as she is concerned, my hands are clean. She has stayed on for this hunt. She leaves on Wednesday.” “We must wait till then, Master Lionel.” “Agreed! Between now and then we’ll collogue.”