“Sir Geoffrey said that the sooner a man o’ twenty-five and a fine young maid of eighteen set about providin’ legitimate an’ lawful subjects for the king, the better. An’ more than that. I got the piece by heart, I did. He said that in Nether-Applewhite he paid a premium for such there matches—a lil’ cottage, look, and a lil’ garden, and a fi’-pun’ note, so be as God A’mighty sent twins.” Prudence blushingly rebuked him. “_Alferd!_” “His brave words, Prue, not mine.” Sir Geoffrey coughed. That a servant of his should memorise his prose might be deemed flattering and eminently proper. He said graciously: “I meant ’em. There is a cottage for you——” “May the Lard bless ’ee, Sir Geoffrey!” Sir Geoffrey raised a minatory finger. “Provided, mark you, that each marries—somebody else.” This was too much for the feelings of an inflamed maid. Prudence confronted the autocrat with heaving bosom and sparkling eyes. “If so be, as I can’t have Alfred, I’ll die a sour old maid, I will.” Her outburst provoked the Squire to unmagisterial wrath. He raised his voice and a dominating hand. “Hold your tongue! We have had quite enough of this. I can’t prevent Alfred marrying you, you little baggage, but if he does he must find another place, and a cottage in a parish which doesn’t belong to me.” Prudence’s courage and defiance oozed from her. With a wailing cry, she flung herself into Fishpingle’s arms. “Uncle Ben——!” Fishpingle comforted her. “There, there, my maid! You obey me. I tell you to go to your room and have a nice comfortable cry. Off with you!” The Squire added a word: “And keep out of my shrubberies, confound you!” Prudence left Fishpingle’s arms, and turned to the Squire, with tears rolling down her cheeks. She said defiantly: “I know where I be going—quick!” She bolted, slamming the door. “The minx! Where is she going?” Fishpingle couldn’t inform him. Possibly to her mother, who was head laundry-maid. The Squire addressed Alfred. “You can go, Alfred, but I warn you not to follow that pert, ungrateful girl. And—in case you should be tempted to disobey me, bring me at once a large whisky and soda.” “Bring two, Alfred,” added Lionel. Alfred obeyed, crestfallen and sullen. As soon as he left the room, Lionel began to protest: “Look here, father, this is too hot, I——” The Squire smiled blandly. “Tch! Tch! All this has been intensely disagreeable to me boy, But, dammy! I must practise what I preach. Sound eugenics. No in-and-in breeding. Ben here agrees with me, don’t you, old friend?” “No, Sir Geoffrey.” The astonished Squire gripped hard the arms of his chair. “Wha-a-at?” he roared. Fishpingle replied deliberately: “I do not agree with you, Sir Geoffrey. I repeat what I said before. The strain in this case is clean and strong on both sides. In my judgment Alfred and Prudence are specially designed by Providence to practise what you preach, and to provide His Majesty in due time with legitimate and lawful subjects.”