"Now, remember, Jane, if George gets leave and comes home, I want to see him. Send him up to the Hall." "Thank you kindly, sir." Sir Geoffrey went his way. As he approached the Yellam cottage, he muttered half audibly: "Good people. Good people." If he had known the truth--! At this moment Jane Mucklow was reviling him, because she laid her George's approaching death at the Squire's door. She made quite sure--and so did George--that he would be killed in his first action. With much reluctance we present these two old servants of the Autocrat smiling deferentially to his face and cursing him behind his back! And he believed so absolutely in their honesty and sincerity. Five minutes later, Mrs. Yellam dusted a chair which needed no dusting. The Squire sat down upon it. He liked and respected Susan Yellam, and she--you may be sure--was well aware of that. No insincerity lurked behind her welcoming smile. But, in justice to the unhappy Jane Mucklow, it must be stated that Susan happened to be independent of the Autocrat. Many times and oft had Uncle been "behindhand" with his rent. More than once Sir Geoffrey had remitted that rent altogether, simply because Uncle was so knowledgeable about foxes and deer, and such a wrath-disarming scallywag even in his cups. Mrs. Yellam paid her rent punctually, and possessed independent means. She had never been in service. She exercised brains, rare in any village, which enabled her to apprehend something withheld from the unprivileged classes, to wit:--that position carried with it crushing responsibilities and disabilities. Mr. Fishpingle, so near and dear to Sir Geoffrey, a friend and servant of fifty years, had often pointed out to her the sacrifices made by the Squire for his people. And she had kept eyes and ears open to these, deducing inferences from them. For some minutes Sir Geoffrey talked about the Red Cross Hospital, enlisting Susan's sympathies. Co-operation had been promised already to Lady Pomfret. "My lady be none too strong," observed Mrs. Yellam. The Squire was not of Mrs. Yellam's opinion, but he didn't say so. He mentioned his proposed lecture, and solemnly invited her considered views on the recruiting campaign. She was not enthusiastic. "Be they wanted real bad, Sir Geoffrey?" "Of course they are." "Wanted as soldiers more than they be wanted on the land?" The Squire frowned. He had not weighed the pros and cons of a question hardly raised as yet even by far-seeing men. "Lord Kitchener asks for them." "I be afeard they'll hang back. 'Tain't easy to believe that us is at war. My Alferd be doing wonnerful well; trade stimulated as never was." "I hear that Alfred is engaged to be married. Tell me all about it." At such moments the Squire was at his best, keenly interested, avid for details, always ready to assume sponsorial obligations for the unborn, and promising five pounds if the little strangers appeared in couples. Mrs. Yellam spoke of Fancy.