“What people?” demanded Hilary, astonished.

“The Archers again?” George sighed with resignation. “Well, what do they want now?”

“It’s that fussy woman, she writes all the letters, I’m sure Professor Archer wouldn’t know or care if the roof blew off. Anyway, the kitchen flue has got to be cleaned out, and she thinks perhaps all the chimneys ought to be swept at the same time, and besides that they want that tree down at the end of the drive where it joins the road. They say it’s dangerous—in the way, you know.”

“That tree has been there a good many years and nobody has run afoul of it yet,” said George, a bit pompously. “Not even in the old days of coaches. It must have been quite a trick to get a coach and four round it and into the road going east, but any modern conveyance can do it on two wheels.”

“Well, apparently the butcher’s boy did smash himself up, on his bicycle. There was a car coming from the left, and in avoiding it the boy hit the tree and broke his collar-bone.”

“Silly fool, he must have been going hell-for-leather at the turn.”

“Perhaps if we put up a nice little sign, not too large a one, of course, saying ‘Concealed Drive’—”

“I’ve done that already. They’re a damned nuisance, those people, I almost wish we’d never let the place!”

“Let Nuns Farthing!” cried Hilary in surprise. “You might have mentioned it to me!”

“If they’d only buy it—” she began, and hesitated.

“You can’t sell a place like that nowadays, mater, the market is stiff with them. It’s too big and too far from Town—and too expensive to keep up!”

“Your father was fond of it,” she sighed. “Hilary likes it too, when he’s at home.”

“Then let Hilary stay at home and look after it!” growled George. “Just because I’m the elder I’m stuck with it! Does he expect me to keep the place going forever just for him to come back and perch in whenever he bl—blooming well feels like it? I’m sick and tired of pouring money into a place you and I never see—never want to see again! What we get from those people barely covers taxes and repairs!”

“Yes, I know all that, dear, but what shall I tell them? They’d better get the sweep in from the village, I suppose—”

“Yes, by all means.”

“And perhaps the tree really ought to come down, if—”

“Certainly not. It’s one of the oaks.” George severely inspected the tray which Hinton was placing on the table beside him. “Thank you,” he added in the same menacing tone, as she went. “I ask you—the butcher’s boy!” said George.