advocate for a man's being able to do everything for himself that may come in his way."
"That," said Nettlebed, frustrating the Duke's attempt to pick up the ewer, "is as may be, your Grace." He poured the water into the basin, and removed the towel from the Duke's hand. "But when his lordship takes a gun out, he has always his loader, and very likely a couple of beaters besides, for he is one as knows what is due to his position."
"Well, if I do not know what is due to mine I am sure it is not for want of being told," sighed the Duke. "I think it would have been very pleasant to have been born one of my own tenants, sometimes."
"Born one of your Grace's own tenants!" ejaculated Nettlebed, in an astonished tone.
The Duke took the towel, and began to wipe his wet face with it. "Not one of those who are obliged to live in Thatch End Cottages, of course," he said reflectively.
"Thatch End Cottages!"
"At Rufford."
"I do not know what your Grace can be meaning!"
"They are for ever complaining of them. I daresay they should all be pulled down. In fact, I am sure of it, for I have seen them."
"Seen them, your Grace?" said Nettlebed, quite shocked. "I am sure I do not know when you can have done so!"
"When we were in Yorkshire, I rode over," replied the Duke tranquilly.
"Now that," said Nettlebed, in a displeased way, "is just what your Grace should not be doing! It is Mr. Scriven who should attend to such matters, as I am sure he is willing and able to do, let alone he has his clerks to be running about the country for him!"
"Only he does not attend to it," said the Duke, sitting down before his dressing-table.
Nettlebed handed him his neckcloth. "Then your Grace may depend upon it there is nothing as needs attending to," he said.
"You remind me very much of uncle," remarked the Duke.
Nettlebed shook his head at him, but said: "Well, and I'll be bound his lordship has told your Grace there isn't a better agent than Mr. Scriven in the length and breadth of the land."
"Oh, yes!" said the Duke. "Nothing could exceed his care for my interests."
"Well, and what more could your Grace desire?"
"I think it would be very agreeable if he cared for my wishes."
A slightly weary note in his master's quiet voice made Nettlebed say with a roughness that imperfectly concealed his affection: "Now, your Grace, I see what it is! You have tired yourself out, carrying that heavy game-bag, and your gun, and you're in a fit of the dismals! If Mr. Scriven don't seem always to care for your wishes, it's because your Grace is young yet, and don't know the ways of tenants, nor what's best for the estate."
"Very true," said the Duke, in a colourless voice.
Nettlebed helped him to put on his coat. "Your Grace's honoured father had every confidence in Mr. Scriven, that I do know," he said.
"Oh, yes!" said the Duke.
Feeling that his master was still unconvinced, Nettlebed began to recite the numerous virtues of the agent-in-chief, but after a few moments the Duke interrupted him, saying: "Well, never mind! Have we company to-night?"
"No, your Grace, you will be quite alone."
"It sounds delightful, but I am afraid it is untrue."
"No, no, your Grace, it is just as I tell you! You will find no one below but my lord, and my lady, and Mr. Romsey, and Miss Scamblesby!" Nettlebed assured him.
The Duke smiled, but refrained from making any remark. He submitted to having his coat smoothed across his shoulders, accepted a clean handkerchief, and moved towards the door. Nettlebed opened this for him, and nodded to an individual hovering in the hall outside, who at once withdrew, apparently to spread the news of the Duke's coming. He was the Groom of the Chambers, and although more modern households might have abolished this office, at Sale Park a pomp belonging to the previous century was rigidly adhered to, and the groom continued to hold his post. During the long period of the Duke's minority he had had little scope for his talents, but he was
"That," said Nettlebed, frustrating the Duke's attempt to pick up the ewer, "is as may be, your Grace." He poured the water into the basin, and removed the towel from the Duke's hand. "But when his lordship takes a gun out, he has always his loader, and very likely a couple of beaters besides, for he is one as knows what is due to his position."
"Well, if I do not know what is due to mine I am sure it is not for want of being told," sighed the Duke. "I think it would have been very pleasant to have been born one of my own tenants, sometimes."
"Born one of your Grace's own tenants!" ejaculated Nettlebed, in an astonished tone.
The Duke took the towel, and began to wipe his wet face with it. "Not one of those who are obliged to live in Thatch End Cottages, of course," he said reflectively.
"Thatch End Cottages!"
"At Rufford."
"I do not know what your Grace can be meaning!"
"They are for ever complaining of them. I daresay they should all be pulled down. In fact, I am sure of it, for I have seen them."
"Seen them, your Grace?" said Nettlebed, quite shocked. "I am sure I do not know when you can have done so!"
"When we were in Yorkshire, I rode over," replied the Duke tranquilly.
"Now that," said Nettlebed, in a displeased way, "is just what your Grace should not be doing! It is Mr. Scriven who should attend to such matters, as I am sure he is willing and able to do, let alone he has his clerks to be running about the country for him!"
"Only he does not attend to it," said the Duke, sitting down before his dressing-table.
Nettlebed handed him his neckcloth. "Then your Grace may depend upon it there is nothing as needs attending to," he said.
"You remind me very much of uncle," remarked the Duke.
Nettlebed shook his head at him, but said: "Well, and I'll be bound his lordship has told your Grace there isn't a better agent than Mr. Scriven in the length and breadth of the land."
"Oh, yes!" said the Duke. "Nothing could exceed his care for my interests."
"Well, and what more could your Grace desire?"
"I think it would be very agreeable if he cared for my wishes."
A slightly weary note in his master's quiet voice made Nettlebed say with a roughness that imperfectly concealed his affection: "Now, your Grace, I see what it is! You have tired yourself out, carrying that heavy game-bag, and your gun, and you're in a fit of the dismals! If Mr. Scriven don't seem always to care for your wishes, it's because your Grace is young yet, and don't know the ways of tenants, nor what's best for the estate."
"Very true," said the Duke, in a colourless voice.
Nettlebed helped him to put on his coat. "Your Grace's honoured father had every confidence in Mr. Scriven, that I do know," he said.
"Oh, yes!" said the Duke.
Feeling that his master was still unconvinced, Nettlebed began to recite the numerous virtues of the agent-in-chief, but after a few moments the Duke interrupted him, saying: "Well, never mind! Have we company to-night?"
"No, your Grace, you will be quite alone."
"It sounds delightful, but I am afraid it is untrue."
"No, no, your Grace, it is just as I tell you! You will find no one below but my lord, and my lady, and Mr. Romsey, and Miss Scamblesby!" Nettlebed assured him.
The Duke smiled, but refrained from making any remark. He submitted to having his coat smoothed across his shoulders, accepted a clean handkerchief, and moved towards the door. Nettlebed opened this for him, and nodded to an individual hovering in the hall outside, who at once withdrew, apparently to spread the news of the Duke's coming. He was the Groom of the Chambers, and although more modern households might have abolished this office, at Sale Park a pomp belonging to the previous century was rigidly adhered to, and the groom continued to hold his post. During the long period of the Duke's minority he had had little scope for his talents, but he was
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