“I’m going to live right here, and I’m going to be buried right _here_,” the American stated firmly, indicating his future grave by driving his stick into a portion of the sod directly blocking the entrance to Parc Gooth. And he walked away towards the vegetable garden; Tody, black with grievances, at his heels; Miss Gregson and her Eye-talian, the Abbotts, and Ursula with Major and Mrs. Allingham-Jones, following Tody. “Tody has his duty to do towards the lady and gentleman, and if aught goes wrong wi’ things it’s Tody’s fault. Tody has nothing against the gentleman, nothing at all, he may be a very nice gentleman, but when Tody’s orders are to let the house to no one but under Mr. Lacey’s written orders, and the gentleman and lady arrive with the letter in their pockets, it isn’t that Tody favours the gentleman and lady any more than this gentleman, but fair’s fair and a promise a promise, leastways when Tody promises----” “I’ve just taken a fancy to this place.” The American passed like a weary steamroller over Tody’s eloquence and crushed it. “And I’m tired of moving about; I’m going to stay here an’ live here and not shift away from here, and be buried right _here_ ... and again he selected a portion of ground and drove his stick among the lettuces. “Now,” glaring defiantly at the surrounding company, “if any one would care to see my bank-book, or my cheque-book, my letters of credit, and the first half-year’s rent, whatever you like to make it, _down_ in notes, why, I’ve got the lot on me right now.” It was easy to see what had fascinated Wenn in this prospective tenant. “Where’s the guy who’s let me this house? he came here with me, but I haven’t seen his face round, lately.” “Mr. Wenn is hiding in the pantry,” said Ursula. “Wenn!” Miss Gregson now became excited. “Wenn’s an old enemy of mine. How did he come to be letting my house?” “Forgive me--mine,” contradicted Mr. Abbott, flushed but caressingly gentle. “For the next five and a half years, mine.” Ursula rather admired the old outlaw playing his wits against the multitude. He was not unromantic, in spite of his dingy felt hat pushed to the back of his head, and his wary, mischievous eyes behind their round spectacles. Young dark-bearded captains may have sailed for the Spanish Main with the same spirit of contempt for safe conformity as the Abbotts clambered into their creaking precarious jingle. Thus musing, Ursula missed Miss Gregson’s answering speech, which was a pity, as it summed up in brisk sentences the whole of her past relations with the Abbotts, material and moral, including an account of what she had believed them to be, and what she had since discovered in their overwhelming disfavour. Suddenly a young Endellion--the village swarmed with them--popped like a goblin from a hole in the fog, handed Ursula yet another telegram, and disappeared again. She read it aloud: “Allingham-Jones has my authority to occupy Parc Gooth from tomorrow.