"Yes," replied Ford. "But if you want any business out of him this morning, you won't get it. I have tramped all the way up here about a hurried matter and have had my walk for my pains. Chattaway won't do anything or say anything; doesn't seem capable; says he shall be at Blackstone by-and-by. And that's all I've got to go back with." "Why won't he?" "Goodness knows. He seems to have had a shock or fright: was staring at a letter when I went in, and I left him staring at it when I came out, his wits evidently wool-gathering. Good morning, Mr. Ryle." The young man went his way, and George entered the room. Mr. Chattaway was seated at his desk; an open letter before him, as Ford had said. It was one that had been delivered by that morning's post, and it had brought the sweat of dismay upon his brow. He looked at George angrily. "Who's this again? Am I never to be at peace? What do you want?" "Mr. Chattaway, I want an answer. If you will not let me the Upland Farm----" "I will give you no answer this morning. I am otherwise occupied, and cannot be bothered with business." "Will you give me an answer--at all?" "Yes, to-morrow. Come then." George saw that something had indeed put Mr. Chattaway out; he appeared incapable of business, as Ford had intimated, and it would be policy, perhaps, to let the matter rest until to-morrow. But a resolution came into George's mind to do at once what he had sometimes thought of doing--make a friend, if possible, of Miss Diana Trevlyn. He went about the house until he found her, for he was almost as much at home there as poor Rupert had been. Miss Diana happened to be alone in the breakfast-room, looking over what appeared to be bills, but she laid them aside at his entrance, and--it was a most unusual thing--condescended to ask after the health of her sister, Mrs. Ryle. "Miss Diana, I want you to be my friend," he said, in the winning manner that made George Ryle liked by everyone, as he drew a chair near to her. "Will you whisper a word for me into Mr. Chattaway's ear?" "About the Upland Farm?" "Yes. I cannot get an answer from him. He has promised me one to-morrow morning, but I do not rely upon it. I must be at some certainty. I have my eye on another farm if I cannot get Mr. Chattaway's; but it is at some distance, and I shall not like it half as well. Whilst he keeps me shilly-shallying over this one, I may lose both. There's an old proverb, you know, about two stools." "Was that a joke the other day, the hint you gave about marrying?" inquired Miss Diana. "It was sober earnest. If I can get the Upland Farm, I shall, I hope, take my wife home to it almost as soon as I am installed there myself." "Is she a good manager, a practical woman?" George smiled. "No. She is a lady." "I thought so," was the remark of Miss Diana, delivered in very knowing tones. "I can tell you and your wife, George, that it will be uphill work for both of you."