* * * * *
I was nearly clear of the wood when I saw Banks coming towards me. He was
carrying my suit-case, and behind him Racquet with a sprightly bearing of
the tail that contradicted the droop of his head, followed with the body
of a young rabbit.
"Loot from the Hall?" I asked when I came within speaking distance.
"Yes, he's been poaching again," Banks said, disregarding the application
of my remark to the suit-case. "Well, he can, now, for all I care. He can
have every blessed rabbit and pheasant in the Park if he likes. I'm done
with 'em."
"Things gone badly?" I asked, stretching out my hand for the suit-case.
"I'll carry it," he said, ignoring my question. "John had it ready packed
when I got there."
I remembered with a passing qualm that John had not been tipped, but put
that thought away as a matter of no pressing importance. "Had he?" I
commented. "Well, you've carried it half-way, now, I'll carry it the other
half."
"I can do it," he said.
"You can but you won't," I replied. "Hand it over." I regarded the
carrying of that suit-case as a symbol of my new way of life. I hoped that
when we arrived at the Farm, Anne might see me carrying it, and realise
that even a writer of foolish comedies, who was well off and belonged to
the Jervaises' class, might aspire to be the equal of her brother.
"It's all right," Banks said, and his manner struck a curious mean between
respect and friendship.