“You Socialists,” said I to Jellaby, next to whom I found I was expected to push, “do not believe in marriage, do you?” “We--don’t--believe--in--tyrants,” he panted, so short of breath that I stared at him, I myself having quite a quantity of it; besides, what an answer! I shrugged the shoulder nearest him and continued up in silence. At the top of the hill he was so warm and breathless that he could not speak, and so were the others, while I was perfectly cool and chatty. “Why, gentlemen,” I remarked banteringly, as I stood in the midst of these panters watching them wipe their heated brows, “you are scarcely what is known as in training.” “But you, Baron--undoubtedly are----” gasped Menzies-Legh. “You are--absolutely unruffled.” “Oh, yes,” I agreed modestly, “I am in good condition. We always are in our army. Ready at any moment to----” I stopped, for I had been on the verge of saying “eat the English,” when I recollected that we may not inform the future mouthfuls of their fate. “Ready to go in and win,” finished Lord Sigismund. “To blow up Europe,” said Jellaby. “To mobilize,” said Menzies-Legh. “And very right and proper.” “Very wrong and improper,” said Jellaby. “You know,” he said, turning on his host with all the combativeness of these men of peace (the only really calm person is your thoroughly trained and equipped warrior)--“you know very well you agree with me that war is the most unnecessary----” “Come, come, my young gentlemen,” I interposed, broadening my chest, “do not forget that you are in the presence of one of its representatives----” “Let us fetch up the next caravan,” interrupted Menzies-Legh, thrusting my horse’s bridle into my hand; and as I led it down the hill again my anxiety to prevent its stumbling and costing me heaven knows how much in the matter of mending its knees rendered me unable for the moment to continue the crushing of Jellaby. About four o’clock in the afternoon we found ourselves, drenched and hungry, on the outskirts of a place called Wadhurst. It seemed wise to go no nearer unless we were prepared to continue on through it, for already the laurels of its villa residences dropped their rain on us over neat railings as we passed. We therefore, too worn out to attempt to get right through the place to the country beyond, selected the first possible field on the left of the brown and puddle-strewn road, a field of yellow stubble which, soaking as it was, was yet a degree less soaking than long grass, and though it had nothing but a treeless hedge to divide us from the eyes of wanderers along the road it had an unusually conveniently placed gate. The importance now of fields and gates! The importance, indeed, of everything usually unimportant--which is, in brief, the tragedy of caravaning.