"Look here, I'm off," he said with a sudden inspiration; "good-morning," and in a moment he had disappeared down the direct pathway towards the farm. XX Hannah in the porch saw him coming. "Mr. Garratt," she said, severely, "have you been for a walk? I thought I heard the pony go by when we were in church." "Yes, I've been for a walk," he answered, huffily, for he was beginning to feel that matters at Woodside Farm were a little too much for him. "Towsey says you went out directly the pony was put to." "That's all right. What then?" "Where's Margaret?" "Up in the wood there," he said, nodding towards it, "with a young lady who, judging from her conversation, has swallowed a bottle of soothing syrup and let the cork come out inside her." "And what did you go up to the wood for?" Hannah asked, severely. "Because I chose. Look here, Miss Barton, I don't want to be cross-examined, if you please." "Well, what I should like to know is--to speak plainly--what are you coming here for, Mr. Garratt?" "That's my business," he answered. "If you like I'll put the pony to at once and be done with it, though, on the whole, I should prefer having some dinner first, seeing that I've come a good way." After all, Mr. Garratt had a fair temper, for he said the last words with a smile that somewhat pacified Hannah, who, seeing that she was likely to get the worst of it, drew in her horns. "I didn't mean to be disagreeable," she said, "but really it's difficult to understand all the goings on here." "That's just what I think. Who is that girl with Margaret? She was just like a snake springing up from the green and wriggling about--said she knew Vincent." Then Hannah, being somewhat further pacified, told him the history of yesterday's visit. "Well, I'm jiggered," Mr. Garratt answered, after a moment's hesitation. "I told you there was something behind it all. This brother of his, Lord Eastleigh--of course I'm on to him directly. He was an awful rummy lot--married Bella Barrington, who used to sing at the Cosmopolitan in the Hornsey Road. A pretty low lot, I can tell you. Well, I am--" "Mr. Garratt," said Hannah horrified, "they are a set of people we should have nothing to do with." "Rubbish. Margaret will be a toff." "There's no money with it." "Well, that's a pity," he said, "but it won't take the title away from them. I always knew they were somebodies." "Hannah," said Towsey, coming from the kitchen, for it was only to Margaret that she gave a respectful prefix, "I'm ready for you to mix the salad." "You'd better go," said Mr. Garratt, "I've got no end of an appetite--I'll just take a stroll to the end of the garden to improve it." For as Hannah turned her head he had seen Margaret coming towards the gate of the Dutch garden, and Mr. Garratt was a politic young man.