“She ain’t your niece, if it comes to that. And the best of ’em do it. Why was the child upset?” Fishpingle answered directly. “Because Alfred and she hope to get married.” The Squire exploded, shaking a minatory forefinger at his butler. “You knew this? And not a word to me? Tchah!” The resentful sparkle in the Squire’s eyes might have been detected also in the eyes of Fishpingle, but there was no irritability in his tone as he said respectfully: “I haven’t had a word from them yet, Sir Geoffrey, but I guessed what was up.” “Well, well, I count on you to nip this. It must be nipped—nipped.” He stood up. Fishpingle remained silent. In a louder voice, with a peremptory gesture, Sir Geoffrey continued: “Did you hear me, Ben? I said—_nipped_. No in-and-in breeding on my property.” Fishpingle observed blandly: “It worked well enough with the Suffolk punches and the hounds you had from the Duke of Badminton.” “Damn you, Ben, it is just like your impudence to argue with me. Now—I leave this little matter in your hands. Have you seen that fool Bonsor this morning?” Bonsor was the bailiff and a source of chronic irritation to his employer. Fishpingle had seen him and spoken to him about some ailing sheep. The Squire listened, frowning and nodding his head. When Fishpingle had finished, he burst out irrelevantly: “Don’t forget what I said just now. You share my views about breedin’. All you know you’ve got from me, you ungrateful old dog!” “I owe much to your family, Sir Geoffrey.” “Pay your debts. There are moments, Ben, when you disappoint me. When you try to—a—_down_ me with my own carefully digested arguments. You’re a match-makin’ old woman, you are. You’ve encouraged Prudence to become engaged to her double first cousin.” Fishpingle smiled disarmingly. “Double first cousins, Sir Geoffrey, if you’ll pardon me, are the children, let us say, of two brothers who happen to have married two sisters.” The Squire fumed, tapping his gaiters with the riding switch which he carried. “There you go again! Trying to crow over me with knowledge gleaned, b’ Jove! from me. You tell Prudence to find another young man.” He stumped to the door and opened it. “You make that perfectly plain to the little baggage. I’m counting on her for half a dozen healthy kids at the least. You hear me? That’s the irreducible minimum.” “I’ll make a mental note of it, Sir Geoffrey.” Sir Geoffrey relaxed a little. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you lose your temper, Ben.” “Pray don’t mention it, Sir Geoffrey.” “And if Bonsor comes bobbing round again about those damned sheep, tell him what you think—I mean what I think.” He went out, slamming the door. Fishpingle whistled softly to himself. * * * * * CHAPTER II