"That confounded Maxwell has built it up stronger than ever!" he exploded. "Look at that, and see how he respects a public right of way! Don't you consider it perfectly scandalous, Hilton?"
Dane saw an irate elderly gentleman, and a neatly mended gap in the hedge; but being uncertain as to what answer would best soothe the former, he wisely held his peace until he should furnish further particulars. Chatterton, however, espying a stout stake in the grass, commenced a spirited attack upon the hedge. So vigorous was it that his face grew flushed and his hat fell off, while Dane looked on with suspicious gravity, smothering a desire to laugh.
"If you really want that gap opened, I dare say I could assist you, sir," he said.
"Do you suppose I am doing this for exercise? It's a public duty! I have battered it down twice already, and defied Culmeny to sue me."
He plied the stake again until, glancing from a root, it smote him on the ankle. Desisting then, he commented upon his neighbor's conduct viciously while Dane proceeded to attack the obstruction with marked success. Chatterton, when he noticed this, watched him admiringly; and when Dane tore his hand on a strand of barbed wire, he positively beamed on him.
"I'm sorry, Hilton; but, in one way, it's almost a pity you did not tear it worse," he said. "Still, I dare say it will rankle sufficiently to give us something to claim damages from Culmeny upon. Meantime, go home and ask Lily to tie it up. Nobody could do it more neatly."
"I certainly hope it will not, sir," said Dane, with a trace of irritation; though, being thankful for the excuse, he lost no time in returning.
Meanwhile, Lilian Chatterton sat where he had left her, in a contemplative frame of mind. She and Dane had been playmates in their younger days, and the latter had afterward shown his admiration for her in youthful fashion. That was before he went abroad; but her cheeks tingled as she remembered how she had been made to feel, a few weeks earlier, that it was Chatterton's desire that their youthful friendship should speedily ripen into something further. Lilian was grateful to the iron-master, who had denied her nothing, and brought her up as his daughter; but she was also sensitive, and accordingly shrank from Dane, wondering, with a sense of shame, what had been said to him, and whether he, too, considered her own opinion as of no importance. The man's conduct had, however, partly reassured her, for he made no advances; she did not know that he had, during several years spent in strenuous effort, carried her memory and a stolen photograph about with him.