The man grinned. "No, Harry knows when he's well off, and it would
take a woman with a mighty firm grip to manage him," said he. "Still,
there's one or two of them quite ready to see what they could make of
him, but Mrs. Margery scares them off when they come round bringing him
little things, and Harry's a bit pernicketty. His father was a duke or
something in the old country."

"Mrs. Margery?" said Deringham inquiringly.

"Yes," said the other. "She's not here just now, but she keeps the
house for him. I help round and do the cooking."

Deringham, who could adapt himself to his surroundings, nodded. "That
is what you would consider a soft job in this country?"

"Well," said the man grimly, as he pointed to the deformation of one
lower limb, "I am not fond of it, but it's about all I'm good for now.
That's where the axe went in, and anybody but Harry Alton might have
fired me. It was my own blame foolishness, too, but when the doctor
told him Harry comes to me. 'You needn't worry about one thing,
anyway. There'll be a job for you just so long as you're wanting it,'"
says he.

"He does that kind of thing sometimes?" said Deringham curiously.

"No, sir," said the other dryly. "He does it every time, but the devil
himself wouldn't squeeze ten cents out of Harry if he didn't want to
give it him. But how long are you going to be stripping that fowl?"

"As I'm afraid it would take me all night, I would prefer to give you a