Ursula lifted the description away from Doug: “And at eleven o’clock or thereabouts, they began packing up all their things in filthy old bags and bottles and biscuit-tins and bits of carpet and torn sacking; and hung them in bundles round a crazy pony-cart, with the harness all tied up with string and rags; and then they told us that the pony had once been Mr. Abbott’s polo mount and had won many cups; and would we drop them a card c/o the Gullick post-office at any time we’re away for a week-end, as they enjoyed coming over to camp at Parc Gooth; and could we lend them fivepence for lump sugar which was healthier than any meat, and a perusal of ‘Timon of Athens’ would enlighten us as to the characters of all the hypocrites and parasites who swarmed in St. Miniot.... And so saying, Mrs. Abbott lit a red lantern, and hopped into the cart and they drove away, rattling and bumping up the dark lane. I couldn’t help wondering----” but she remembered that Mr. Wright had his limitations, and kept to herself the appeal which the lawless homeless Abbotts had made to her imagination. Young, roystering, rollicking adventurers, here today, on the road tomorrow, ready for flight at any moment, picking up a precarious living by their wits--_Young_ rogues and adventurers were not uncommon nor to be pitied. But Mr. and Mrs. Abbott were well over sixty--and, it might seem, too old to live defiantly. They ought to have settled down long ago to days of pious security, fussed over by kindly grandchildren, and quite certain of the same chair in the same place until they peacefully died. “Oh well, we haven’t come to the end of the Abbotts yet--but I’d watch him if I were you, sir. There’s a lot more I could tell you.... It’s a house of ill luck, Parc Gooth is, for all that it’s not yet built four years. I’ll let you know about what I said before, when I said I would. Thank you, Mr. Barrison. Good-day, madam.” [II] ONCE outside Mr. Wright’s stuffy little shop, Ursula said doubtfully: “These rustics, they’re awfully quaint, aren’t they, Doug?” “Thumping good fellows, all of them,” replied her husband, in vigorous remonstrance of her uneasiness. “I wonder why they all tell us to watch each other.... D’you remember what the Abbotts told us about Wright?” “I think old Abbott means well--he’s one of us, of course, and sees our point of view ... what was it he said about Wenn of the Temperance Hotel?” “Said he was the most dangerous thief in the neighbourhood.... M’yes. That’s our future landlord, isn’t it?” Their eyes met--and they laughed. “Arcadia ...” said Ursula. “More or less.” “I wonder if the Laceys _are_ paying over our rent to Miss Gregson and her circus-rider, or to the Abbotts.” “Or keeping it themselves,” suggested Doug, vaulting a gate. “How unmarried you look, Teddy,” as she followed him over, with that sedate air which she wore like a fichu and dorothy-bag. “It’s hardly respectable.” “Young, do you mean?”