"I will come and talk to you for a few minutes, if I may," Deyes said. "I leave the Church and agriculture to hobnob. Somehow I don't fancy that as a buffer I should be a success." Young Hurd smiled amiably. He was more than a little flattered. "The Archdeacon," he remarked, "is not an inspiring neighbour." Deyes lit one of his own cigarettes and passed his case. "I have found the Archdeacon very dull," he admitted--"a privilege of his order, I suppose. By the bye, you are having a dose of religion from a new source hereabouts, are you not?" "You mean this young missioner?" Hurd inquired doubtfully. Deyes nodded. "I was with our hostess when he came up to ask for the loan of a barn to hold services in. A very queer sort of person, I should think?" "I haven't spoken to him," Hurd answered, "but I should think he's more or less mad. I can understand mission and Salvation Army work and all that sort of thing in the cities, but I'm hanged if I can understand any one coming to Thorpe with such notions." "Our hostess is annoyed about it, I imagine," Deyes remarked. "She seems to have taken a dislike to the fellow," Hurd admitted. "She was speaking to me about him just now. He is to be turned out of his lodgings here." Gilbert Deyes smiled. The news interested him. "Our hostess is practical in her dislikes," he remarked. "Why not?" his neighbour answered. "The place belongs to her." Deyes watched for a moment the smoke from his cigarette, curling upwards. "The young man," he said thoughtfully, "impressed me as being a person of some determination. I wonder whether he will consent to accept defeat so easily." The agent's son scarcely saw what else there was for him to do. "There isn't anywhere round here," he remarked, "where they would take him in against Miss Thorpe-Hatton's wishes. Besides, he has nowhere to preach. His coming here at all was a huge mistake. If he's a sensible person he'll admit it." Deyes nodded as he rose to his feet and lounged towards the door with the other men. "Play bridge?" he asked his companion, as they crossed the hall. "A little," the young man answered, "for moderate stakes." They entered the drawing-room, and Deyes made his way to a secluded corner, where Lady Peggy sat scribbling alone in a note-book. "My dear Lady Peggy," he inquired, "whence this exceptional industry?" She closed the book and looked up at him with twinkling eyes. "Well, I didn't mean to tell a soul until it was finished," she declared, "but you've just caught me. I've had such a brilliant idea. I'm going to write a Society Encyclopædia!" Deyes looked at her solemnly. "A Society Encyclopædia!" he repeated uncertainly. "'Pon my word, I'm not quite sure that I understand." She motioned him to sit down by her side.