For in their day, you see, there'll be no squires, and no parks.

The land 'll be the people's, and all this kind of thing--_your_ gates, _your_ servants, _your_ fine house, _your_ game-coverts, and all the rest of it--will be like a bit of history out of Noah's Ark.' The Squire looked at him attentively.
'You're a queer kind of chap,' he said, half contemptuously.

'I suppose you're one of those revolutionary fellows the papers talk about ?' 'That's it.

Only there are a good many of us.

When the time comes,' he nodded pleasantly, 'we shall know how to deal with you.' 'It'll take a good deal longer than you think,' said the Squire coolly; 'unless indeed you borrow the chap from Russia who's invented the machine for cutting off five hundred heads at once, by electricity.