The Buccaneer Farmer Part 6

"I daresay I am a raw sentimentalist, but I'm glad I'm not up to date,"

she said. "I hate your modern smartness!"

Thorn, noting the hardness of her voice, stopped with an apologetic gesture and let her go.

CHAPTER V

RAILTON'S TALLY

Winter had begun, and although the briars shone red along the hedgerows and the stunted oaks had not lost all their leaves, bitter sleet blew across the dale when Grace went up the muddy lonning to Mireside farm.

Railton's daughter had for a time helped the housekeeper at Tarnside, and Grace, hearing that the farmer had been ill, was going to ask about him.

It was nearly dark when she entered the big kitchen. The lamp had not been lighted, but a peat fire burned in the wide grate, where irons for cooking pots hung above the blaze. A bright glow leaped up and spread about the kitchen, touching the people in the room, and then faded as she shut the ma.s.sive door.

Grace thought her arrival had embarra.s.sed the others, because n.o.body said anything for a moment or two. Railton sat in an old oak chair by the fire, with a stick near his hand; Tom, the shepherd, occupied the middle of the floor; and Kit Askew leaned against the table, at which Mrs.

Railton and Lucy sat. Grace wished she could see them better, but the blaze had sunk and the fire burned low, giving out an aromatic smell, and throwing dull reflections on the old oak furniture, copper kettles, and tall bra.s.s candlesticks. As a rule, the lonely homesteads in the dales are furnished well, with objects made long since and handed down from father to son.

Then Mrs. Railton began to talk, rather nervously, and Grace turned to the farmer as the light spread about the room again. He had a thin, lined face; his shoulders were bent, and his pose was slack. Sickness no doubt accounted for something, but Grace imagined his att.i.tude hinted at dejection.

"How are you to-day?" she asked.

"No varra weel. I'm none so young, and the wet and cold dinna agree with my oad bones. Mayhappen I'll be better soon, but noo when I'm needed I canna get aboot."

"He'll not can rest," Mrs. Railton interposed. "He was oot in sleet, boddering among t' sheep aw day."

"And weel you ken I had to gan," the farmer rejoined.

Mrs. Railton's silence implied agreement and Grace's curiosity was excited because of something she had heard at home. Railton's lease of the sheepwalk ran out in a few days, but he was by local custom ent.i.tled to its renewal after a review of the terms. Moreover, it was usual for the tenant to take the sheep with the farm, and leave them equal in number and condition when he went. The landlord could then demand a valuation and payment of the difference, if the flocks had fallen below the proper standard.

"Why are you forced to go out in this bitter weather?" she asked.

Railton hesitated, and then saw his daughter's meaning glance. Lucy was clever, and he thought she wanted him to be frank.

"I had to see how sheep were," he answered dully. "Not that it was o'

mich use. T' lambs niver get over wet spring and t' ewes is poor. Then flock is weel under tally; I've lost two score Swinset Herdwicks, and the mak-up's next Thursday."

"But how did you lose forty sheep?" Grace asked.

"There was a hole in fell d.y.k.e and Swinset sheep are thief sheep, varra bad to hoad. I bowt ewes there and t' lambs followed when they wandert back to their heaf."

Grace pondered. She had noted some reserve in Railton's manner when he mentioned the broken d.y.k.e and knew the flockmasters were careful about their dry walls. The rest was plain; the _heaf_ is the hill pasture where a lamb is born, and Swinset was fifteen miles away. It was a very large sheepwalk and much time would be needed to find the sheep on the wide belt of moor.

"If you know the sheep are at Swinset, they would be allowed for in the count," she said.

"I have my doubts. Mr. Hayes sent me notice tally would be taken on Thursday and he's a hard man."

Grace colored. Although she did not like Hayes, he was...o...b..rn's agent.

There was much she wanted to know, but she could not ask.

"Mr. Hayes cannot do exactly as he likes; he must get my father's consent," she said. "However, as I am going home by the field path, I had better start before it's dark."

"There's a broken gate that's awkward to open. I will come with you until you reach it," Kit remarked.

They went out together. The sleet had stopped, but leaden clouds rolled across the hills that glimmered white in the dusk. As they struck across a wet field Grace said:

"I suppose Railton's flock is below the proper standard and the count is short?"

"Yes; the two or three wet years have hit flock-masters hard and Railton had to sell more stock than was prudent, in order to pay his debts."

"Then if he can't pay the difference in number and value, the lease can be broken?"

Kit made a sign of agreement and Grace asked: "But do you think Hayes would break the lease and turn him out?"

"It's possible," Kit answered cautiously.

Grace gave him a sharp glance. "What do you really think, Mr. Askew? I want to know."

"Then, my notion is Hayes would like to get Mireside for Jim Richardson."

"Richardson is his nephew."

"Just so," said Kit, with some dryness. "All the same he'd make a good tenant. His father is rich enough to start him well."

Grace's eyes sparkled, for she saw where the hint led, but she hid her resentment, because, after all, she had doubts. Osborn needed money and Hayes was cunning.

"I imagine it would hurt Railton to leave."

"It would hurt him much. He was born at Mireside and his father took the farm from your grandfather, a very long time since. Then he's an old man and has not enough money to begin again at another place."

"Ah," said Grace, "it would be very hard if he had to go! But if he hasn't money, he couldn't carry on, even if we renewed the lease."

"We have had remarkably bad weather for two or three years and the cold rain killed the young lambs, but a change is due. A dry spring and fine summer would put the old man straight."

Grace was silent for a few moments and then looked at Kit with some color in her face.

"Thank you for making the situation plain. You were not anxious to do so, were you? I think you don't trust us!"

"I don't trust Hayes," Kit said awkwardly.

"But Hayes is our agent. We are accountable for what he does."

"In a way, I suppose you are accountable. For all that, when a landlord has a capable agent it is not the rule for him to meddle. I understand Mr. Osborn leaves much to Hayes."

Grace pondered. Kit's embarra.s.sment indicated that he was trying to save her feelings, but he must know, as she knew, that a landlord was rightly judged by his agent's deeds. Although she rather liked Kit Askew, he had humiliated her.

"Well," she said resolutely, "something must be done. If the strayed sheep could be found, it would help."