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"Git out of this!" he shouted. "I w?an't stand here and listen to you miscalling the farm wot's bred you and fed you over thirty year. Git out, and never think you'll come back again. I'm shut of you. I d?an't want no more of youI'm out of the wood now, I've got all the work out of you I've needed, so you can go, and spread your hemmed Word, and be hemmed. I'm shut of you.""Then, Stephen Holgrave, a word in your ear:I know him; and let that man hoist what colours he may, steer clear of himyou understand me!"

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TWO:Merritt bent his knee to the monk, who pronounced a tremulous, but fervent benediction, on the brave fellow, who, bidding a friendly farewell to Turner, and being assured that father John should remain under his protection as long as he desired, bounded, with the spring of a deer, in the direction of his home.

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THREE:
FORE:"I see you have a misgiving that it is Thomas Calverleyit is he! But be seated, Margaret, and listen to the last words I shall ever more breathe in mortal ear.""My wheat!wot d'you mean, sir?"

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FORE:The spell of doubt was broken. A dozen others sprang towards the palings, a dozen more were after them to smite. The workmen swung their tools. The fight began."I dunno."

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FORE:The practices were held in the clerk's kitchen, into which the choristers would crush and huddle. On full attendance nights all elbows touched, and occasionally old Spodgram's bow would be jolted out of his hand, or someone would complain that Leacher was blowing his trumpet down his neck. Afterwards the choristers would wander home in clusters through the fields; the clusters generally split into small groups, and then the groups into couples. The couples would scatter widely, and vex their homes with late returnings.

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FORE:O why when we kissed 'mid the ewes on the hanger,

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FORE:"'Tis a capital night," said Byles, as he looked up at the sky in a tone of soliloquy; "I could not have wished for a betterjust light enough to see what we are about, and not enough to tell tales. Sam," continued he, closing the door and sitting again at the fire, "bring me the shafts and let me look if the bow is in order.""Good afternoon," she replied, putting one hand in his, and withdrawing it almost immediately.

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THREE:Nevertheless, he called at Starvecrow and renewed his impressions of Rose. They did not want much[Pg 251] adjustment; he found her as he had found her that first eveningchildlike in all things save love, indolent, languorous, and yet with gay bursts of spirit which made her charming. He noticed too how well dressed she washe admired her stuff gown and neat buttoned boots, so different from what he was accustomed to see on the feet of his womenfolk; he admired the crinkle and gloss of her hair, so beautifully waved and brushed, and scented with some lotionher hands, too, well kept and white with shining pink nails, her trim muslin collar, the clover scent of her garments ... it was all new, and gave him somehow a vague feeling of self-respect. FORE:Mrs. Backfield arrived in a washed-out bed-gown. A fire was lit and water put on to boil. Fanny's, however, did not seem just an ordinary case of "fits"; she lay limp in her mother's arms, strangely blue round the mouth, her eyes half open.
THREE:Thursday broke clear and windylittle curls of cloud flew high against spreads of watery blue, and the wind raced over Boarzell, smelling of wet furrows. As usual[Pg 163] everyone at Odiam was going to the Faireven Mrs. Backfield, for Reuben said that he would not let the girls go without her. Caro and Tilly were now fifteen and sixteen, and their father began to have fears lest they should marry and leave him. Tilly especially, with her creamy complexion like Naomi's, and her little tip-tilted nose, freckled over the bridge, gave him anxious times. He sternly discouraged any of the neighbouring farmers' sons who seemed inclined to call; he was not going to lose his daughters just when Mrs. Backfield's poor health made them indispensable. It could not be long before his mother diedalready her bouts of rheumatism were so severe that she was practically crippled each winterand when she died Tilly and Caro must take her place."That's no reason for not having a fire. I shall freeze. Let's have the servant up to light one."
FORE:"But think of me, Backfield! Think of his mother! Think of us all! It would be a ghastly thing for us. I promise to pay you the full value of the cowand of your damaged self-respect into the bargain. Won't that content you?" Lead Designer

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FORE:There was no reason why this ambition should not be fulfilled, for now that he himself was at the head of affairs it would be possible to save money. Reuben's lips straightenedof late they had grown fuller, but also sterner in that occasional straightening, which changed the expression of his mouth from half-ripened sensuality to a full maturity of resolve. Now he was resolvedthere should be changes at Odiam. He must give up that old easy, "comfortable" life on which his father had set such store. A ghost seemed to whisper in the room, as if the voice of the dead man once more declared his gospel"I've no ambitions, so I'm a happy man. I d?an't want nothing I haven't got, and so I haven't got nothing I d?an't want." Serior Analyst

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FORE:"My soul is all washed to whiteness, Lead Developer

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199 ONE:"They're no good, them Boers," he announced at the Cocks; "there they've bin fur years and years, and[Pg 409] they say as how that Transvaal's lik a desert. They've got mizzling liddle farms such as I wudn't give sixpence forand all that gurt veldt's lik the palm of my hand, naun growing. They d?an't deserve to have a country."
890 ONE:"I wish Caro or Jemmy cud meet someone like her. I d?an't think as Pete minds.""Oh, stop it, Ben! can't you see you're spoiling my dress? Why should you get in such a taking? You've had children before, and they've all been failuresI expect this one will only be like the rest."
THREE:He never let anyone see him in these momentssomehow they were almost sacred to him, the religion of his godless old age. But soon the more distant cottagers came to know him by sight, and watch for the tall old man who so often tramped past their doors. He always walked quickly, his head erect, a stout ash stick in his hand. He was always alonenot even a dog accompanied him. He wore dark corduroys, and either a wide-brimmed felt hat, or no hat at all, proud of the luxuriance of his iron-grey hair. They soon came to know who he was.
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"Could you paint Boarzell?""Which division of the kerns do you command?""She's ayou know," he said.Early in September George arrived. Reuben's face kindled when the doctor told him he had escaped Georgina."Shot one of my cows!" and Reuben sprang to his feet. "Where woman? Where?"She coloured, and began to stutter something.
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