"Well, I think it's a lot of tommy-rot," said Worthing, "and I've often told Brill so. The people don't want it. The happiest state of things for them is where an old-fashioned Squire is doing his duty, and an old-fashioned parson is doing his duty."
"And an old-fashioned agent is doing his duty," hazarded Barbara.
Worthing eyed her askance, and then chuckled. "You're a cheeky young baggage," he said, "but you're not far wrong either. The agent has to drive the team, and it wants some driving. It's the human side that's wanted; that's what it is—the human side."
He came abruptly to an end, with a frown of perplexity on his ample, not over-intellectual face. It was Caroline who interpreted his ideas for him further.
"You're quite right, dear Uncle Jimmy," she said. "That's what strikes one when one gets into country life a little. The system may not be perfect, but it works splendidly with the right people to look after it."
Her father smiled at her indulgently. "What do you know about the system?" he asked her.
"Oh, I've been reading," she said. "I read a lot when you are up in London, Dad, and don't want looking after."
"I don't see much wrong with the system," said Richard Mansergh. "It's worked jolly well for hundreds of years, and it's only the Radicals who want to upset it."
"The naughty wicked Radicals, of course!" said Beatrix. "I like them better than the Tories myself. I once met Mr. Birrell, and he's the sweetest old lamb in the world."
"One swallow doesn't make a summer," said Richard. "Wait till you've met a few more."