“Not I. Slept like a top, and I went out through the sandpits and among the fir trees this morning.”
He hurried out of the French window, and out into the road, and looked over the hedge into the park and then returned.
“Seems to have been splashed with petroleum or paraffin. Twice cut down, and once burned. Well, somebody else does not like the hoarding.”
“But, papa, you gave orders for it to be destroyed!”
“I? Hang it all, Very, am I the sort of man to do such a shabby thing?”
“No, papa: I beg your pardon.”
“Granted, pet. Some one in the village thinks it’s a paltry thing to do, and has constituted himself our champion. Confound his insolence! What did he say in his letter?”
“That if you dared to destroy his property, he would prosecute you, papa,” said Veronica.
“Yes, and he has sent me a summons.”
“Oh, papa!”