About seven he rang, and handed a telegram form to a servant, with instructions to send off the message the moment the wire was available; and by twelve the family solicitor had arrived from London. Hastily placing a screen in front of the child, the Squire admitted the solicitor, nervously locking the door after him, and always keeping himself between the solicitor and little Rupert. "Mr. Pergamen," said the Squire, "I have decided to convey this house--I beg you will follow me--convey this house to one, John Puddifoot, grocer, of this village; to be his absolutely, without----" The family solicitor started up and gasped, but the Squire waved him into silence with his hand, continuing:-- "Yes, to alienate from myself, and my son, our ancestral home, 'Grange'--the house which has belonged to the family since the end of Henry VIII., the same, Mr. Pergamen, the same--_the_ house, _this_ house, Grange. You are aware, of course, that the existing owner has the power to do this? Eh? 'Make a temporary arrangement of it'?" continued the Squire, answering the solicitor's suggestion more to himself than to the suggester. "No--no--no! That might not suffice; no, I won't risk it--no, no, no! Be kind enough to prepare the necessary deeds at once--_at once_. '_Remember my heir?_' I _am_ remembering my heir, sir! Be kind enough to bring me the deeds the moment they are ready, and I will sign them. "Yes, John Puddifoot, grocer, of the village of Grangeham. Stay--kindly write out a provisional declaration of transfer _now_, and I will sign it." "To make this transfer of your property to the grocer legal, there must be a consideration," said the solicitor; "shall we say _Natural Love and Affection?_--Very good." So the half-dazed solicitor drew it up, and the Squire signed it; and then the solicitor went away to prepare the formal deed; and the haggard Squire, catching up the child, hastily dressed him, carried him down to the hall, keeping his own body between his burden and all whom he passed, and, throwing on his great grey overcoat and drawing it over the child so as to conceal him as far as possible, hurried out and went straight away to the shop of John Puddifoot, grocer, and plunged straight into the little back parlour. "Come in here, Puddifoot--come in here, and lock the door behind you!" cried the Squire, placing the child on a chair in the darkest corner, and standing at bay, as it were, in front of it. "John Puddifoot, I have long been troubled with misgivings as to the happiness and welfare of those over whose lot I exercise a considerable influence. I do not know, in short, whether the tenants on my estate are as happy as they should be. This has worried me, Puddifoot; and I have decided that it is my duty to inquire into the matter; and it seems to me that the most effectual method of inquiry is to change places with one of them.