"Ah! I can sometimes see what a woman is doing by using my eyes, and I can sometimes see what she's going to do by using my head; but why she does it or why she's going to do it—that's quite beyond me," said Cartmell.
"It's a pretty place," I urged. "Good house—nice sized sort of place, too."
"But who's going to live in it—unless you are, Austin?"
I modestly disclaimed any pretensions—and any desire—to be housed so handsomely. Sir John frowned in perplexity. "Seems to me she wants the whole county!" he observed.
"Old Nicholas Driver did, anyhow," said Cartmell with a laugh. "Oxley wasn't enough for him! He wanted Fillingford Manor—you remember, Sir John?"
"Well, that didn't come off," said Aspenick dryly; I fancied that he hinted it had not "come off" with old Nicholas's daughter either—so far. "Does she mean to let the house?"
"I really don't know anything about it."
"Well, she'll be a good neighbor, I suppose. She can afford to keep her fences in order, and she won't put up wire. More than I can say for Ware! His fences were a disgrace, and he's been threatening us with wire—that's only since we wouldn't have him as candidate, I admit."
"We'll answer for the fences and the wire," Cartmell promised him cheerfully.
"But, in spite of his being reassured as to these vital matters, Aspenick's brow was still clouded.