"The thing is hardly public property yet," said old Cartmell, "but I'm sure Miss Driver wouldn't mind its being mentioned to such an old friend as you are, Sir John. Yes, it's settled. Ware sells and she buys--the whole thing, lock, stock, and barrel, and at a pretty stiff price, too--to say nothing of an extra five hundred for early possession." "Why does she do it?" demanded Aspenick, sitting on the office table and smoking a cigar. "Ah! I can sometimes see what a woman is doing by using my eyes, and I can sometimes see what she's going to do by using my head; but why she does it or why she's going to do it--that's quite beyond me," said Cartmell. "It's a pretty place," I urged. "Good house--nice sized sort of place, too." "But who's going to live in it--unless you are, Austin?" I modestly disclaimed any pretensions--and any desire--to be housed so handsomely. Sir John frowned in perplexity. "Seems to me she wants the whole county!" he observed. "Old Nicholas Driver did, anyhow," said Cartmell with a laugh. "Oxley wasn't enough for him! He wanted Fillingford Manor--you remember, Sir John?" "Well, that didn't come off," said Aspenick dryly; I fancied that he hinted it had not "come off" with old Nicholas's daughter either--so far. "Does she mean to let the house?" "I really don't know anything about it." "Well, she'll be a good neighbor, I suppose. She can afford to keep her fences in order, and she won't put up wire. More than I can say for Ware! His fences were a disgrace, and he's been threatening us with wire--that's only since we wouldn't have him as candidate, I admit." "We'll answer for the fences and the wire," Cartmell promised him cheerfully. "But, in spite of his being reassured as to these vital matters, Aspenick's brow was still clouded. "You're her man, of course, Cartmell, but I don't mind saying to you that these new people coming in and buying up everything give me a sort of feeling of being crowded. Do you know what I mean?" "Can't keep things just as they were six hundred years ago, Sir John," said Cartmell. Aspenick was not mollified by this tactful reference to his long descent. "Hustling, I call it! I suppose you'll be wanting Overington next?" We both repudiated the idea of laying profane hands on Overington's ancient glories. "We'll leave you in possession, Sir John. But we may take just a slice off Hingston, if Mr. Dormer's agreeable." "Everybody knows that Dormer's outrunning the constable, and I daresay you'll get all you want from him--but not an acre of mine, mind you!" "Don't cry out before you're hurt, Sir John," Cartmell advised him good-humoredly. But when he was gone he said to me with a shrewd nod, "Well, we all know why he's so precious sulky!"