"No doubt. You must take me to see some of my tenants; but you must not tell them who I am." "There's a decent house!" he remarked presently, as they came in sight of a comfortable-looking residence, which stood on their left, at the entrance of the village. "Ah, that's the vicarage," replied the agent, "and the church is a little beyond, and along there, on the other side of the road, is the farm-house which does not belong to you." They were now entering the village, the long, straggling street of which soon afforded "the Golden Shoemaker" evidence enough of his deceased uncle's parsimonious ideas. Half-ruined cottages and tumbledown houses were dispersed around; here and there along the main street, were two or three melancholy shops; and in the centre of the village stood a disreputable-looking public-house. "I could wish," said "Cobbler" Horn, as they passed the last-mentioned building, "that my village did not contain any place of that kind." "There's no reason," responded the agent, with a quiet smile, "why you should have a public-house in the place, if you don't want one." "Couldn't we have a public-house without strong drink?" "No doubt we could, sir; but it wouldn't pay." "You mean as a matter of money, of course. But that is nothing to me, and the scheme would pay in other respects. I leave it to you, Mr. Gray, to get rid of the present occupant of the house as soon as it can be done without injustice, and to convert the establishment into a public-house without the drink--a place which will afford suitable accommodation for travellers, and be a pleasant meeting place, of an evening, for the men and boys of the village." "Thank you, sir," said the agent, with huge delight. "Have I carte blanche?" "'Carte blanche'?" queried "Cobbler" Horn, with a puzzled air. "Let me see; that's----what? Ah, I know--a free hand, isn't it?" "Yes, sir," replied the agent gravely. "Then that's just what I mean." As they drove on, "Cobbler" Horn observed that most of the gardens attached to the cottages were in good order, and that some of the people had been at great pains to conceal the mouldering walls of their wretched huts with roses, honeysuckle, and various climbing plants. Glowing with honest shame, he became restlessly eager to wave his golden wand over this desolate scene. "This is my place, sir," said the agent, as they stopped at the gate of a dingy, double-fronted house. "You'll have a bit of dinner with us in our humble way?" "Thank you," said "the Golden Shoemaker," "I shall be very glad." CHAPTER XXI. IN NEED OF REPAIRS. After dinner, "Cobbler" Horn set out with his agent on a tour of inspection through the village. "We'll take this row first, sir, if you please," said Mr. Gray. "One of the people has sent for me to call."