"I'm on the sanitary authority. We've summoned him till we're tired, to put those cottages in repair. No use. Now, we've told him that we shall repair them ourselves and send in the bill to him. That's stirred him, and he's immediately given everybody notice to quit—says he'll close the whole village. But the people won't go. There are no other cottages for miles—they've taken to stoning our inspectors."
"And you think our land system's going to last on these terms?" said
Boden, his eyes flaming.
The little Tory opposite drew himself up.
"It's not the system—it's the man."
"The system's judged—that permits the man."
"Melrose is unique," said Barton, hotly; "we are a model county, but for the Melrose estate."
"But the exception is damning! It compromises you all. That such a place as Mainstairs should be possible—that's the point!"
"For you Socialists, I daresay!" cried Barton. "The rest of us know better than to expect a perfect world!"
Boden laughed, the passion dying from his face.
"Ah, well, we shall have to make you march—you fellows in possession. No hope—unless we are 'behind you with a bradawl!'"