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Page 53
"Well-a-mercy! Good-evening, Stephen. When did you get home? Nobody had
heard tell. Eh? What?"
"I came this afternoon, squire; and as there is a favor you can do us, I
thought I would ask it at once."
"Surely, Stephen. What can I do? Eh? What?"
"I hear your harvest is home. Can you spare us a couple of men? The
wheat in Low Barra fields is ready for the sickle."
"Three men, four, if you want them. You cannot have too many sickles.
Cut wheat while the sun shines. Eh? What? How is the lady at Up-Hill?"
"Mother is middling well, I'm obliged to you. I think she has failed
though, since grandfather died."
"It is likely. She has been too much by herself. You should stay at
home, Stephen Latrigg. A man's duty is more often there than anywhere
else. Eh?"
"I think you are right now, squire." And then he blundered into the very
statement that he ought to have let alone. "And I am not going to build
the mill, squire,--not yet, at least. I would not do any thing to annoy
you for the world."
The information was pleasant to Sandal; but he had already heard it, in
its least offensive way, through Ducie and Charlotte. Steve's broad
relinquishment demanded some acknowledgment, and appeared to put him
under an obligation which he did not feel he had any right to
acknowledge. He considered the building of a mill so near his own
property a great social wrong, and why should he thank Stephen Latrigg
for not committing it?
So he answered coldly, "You must take your own way, Stephen. I am an old
man. I have had my say in my generation, maybe I haven't any right to
meddle with yours. New men, new times." Then being conscious that he
was a little ungenerous he walked off to Mrs. Sandal, and left the
lovers together. Steve would have forgiven the squire a great deal more
for such an opportunity, especially as a still kinder after-thought
followed it. For he had not gone far before he turned, and called back,
"Bring Steve into the house, Charlotte. He will stay, and have a bit of
supper with us, no doubt." Perhaps the lovers made the way into the
house a little roundabout. But Sandal was not an unjust man; and having
given them the opportunity, he did not blame them for taking it. Besides
he could trust Charlotte. Though the heavens fell, he could trust
Charlotte.
During supper the conversation turned again to Stephen's future plans.
Whether the squire liked to admit the fact or not, he was deeply
interested in them; and he listened carefully to what the young man
said.
"If I am going to trust to sheep, squire, then I may as well have plenty
to trust to. I think of buying the Penghyll 'walk,' and putting a
thousand on it."
"My song, Stephen!"
"I can manage them quite well. I shall get more shepherds, and there
are new ways of doing things that lighten labor very much. I have been
finding out all about them. I think of taking three thousand fleeces, at
the very least, to Bradford next summer."
"Two hundred years ago somebody thought of harnessing a flock of wild
geese for a trip to the moon. They never could do it. Eh? What?"
Stephen laughed a little uncomfortably. "That was nonsense, squire."
"It was 'almighty youth,' Stephen. The young think they can do every
thing. In a few years they do what they can and what they may. It is a
blessed truth that the mind cannot stay long in a _bree_. It gets tired
of ballooning, and comes down to hands and feet again. Eh? What?"
"I think you mean kindly, squire."
The confidence touched him. "I do, Steve. Don't be in a hurry, my lad.
There are some things in life that are worth a deal more than
money,--things that money cannot buy. Let money take a backward place."
Then he voluntarily asked about the processes of spinning and weaving
wool, and in spite of his prejudices was a little excited over
Stephen's startling statements and statistics.
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