A Maid of the Silver Sea Part 8

"I'll talk to her," and he went in at once to the old lady's room.

But Grannie gave him no time for argument.

"It's you's the fool, Tom," she said decisively, as he crossed the threshold. "There's not enough silver in Sark to make a plate for your coffin."

"I brought out more'n enough to make your plate and mine, myself to-day," he said triumphantly.

"Ah, bah! You'd have done better for yourself and for Sark if you'd let it lie."

"I'd have done better still if I'd got twice as much."

"If the good G.o.d set silver inside Sark, it was because He thought it was the best place for it, and it's not for the likes of you to be trying to get it out."

"What's it there for if it's not to be got out?"

"You mark me, Tom Hamon, no good will come of all this upsetting and digging out the insides of the Island--nenni-gia!"

"Pergui, mother, where do you think all the silver and gold in the world came from?"

"It didn't come out of our Sark rocks any way, mon gars."

"Good thing for us if it had, ma fe! But, see you here, mother, if I sell the farm it's not you and Nance that need trouble. If I pay out your dowers in hard cash you're both of you better off than you are now, and I'm better off too. It's only Tom could complain, and--"

"It's hard on the lad."

"Bidemme, it's no more than he deserves for his goings-on! Maybe it'll do him good to have to work for his living."

"And you would do that to get your bit more money to throw into those big holes?"

"Never you mind me. I'll take care of myself, and we'll see who's wisest in the end. Now, will you agree to it?"

"I'll talk it over with Nancy again," and the big black sun-bonnet nodded with sapient significance. "Send her to me."

"It's from you I got my good sense," said old Tom approvingly, and went off in search of his wife, while the clever old lady pondered deep schemes.

"Here's the way of it, Nancy," she said, when Mrs. Hamon came in. "He's crazy on these silver mines, and he's willing to pay out our dowers, yours and mine, so that he may throw the rest into the big holes at Port Gorey. Ch'est b'en! Your money and mine take more than half of what he gets. If you'll put yours to mine I'll make up the difference from what I've saved, and we'll retraite the farm, and it shall go to Nance and Bernel when the time comes."

"I can't help thinking it's rather hard on Tom," suggested Mrs. Hamon, with less vigour than before.

The idea appealed strongly to her maternal feelings and she had suffered much from Tom; still her instinct for right was there and was not to be stifled with a word.

"If you feel so when the time comes we could divide it among them, and till then Tom would have to behave himself," said the wily old lady, with a chuckle.

That again appealed strongly to Mrs. Hamon.

"Yes, I think I would agree to that," she said, after thinking it all over.

All things considered, Grannie's scheme was an excellent one and worthy of her.

By a curious anomaly of Sark law, though a man may not mortgage his property without the consent of his next-in-succession, he can sell it outright and do what he chooses with the proceeds. His wife has a dower right of one-third of both real and personal estate, into which she enters upon his death. The right, however, is there while he still lives, and must be taken into consideration in any sale of the property.

All property is sold subject to the "retraite"; in plain English, no sale is completed for six weeks, and within that time every member of the seller's family, in due order of succession, even to the collateral branches, has the right to take over, or withdraw, the property at the same price as has been agreed upon, paying in addition to the Seigneur the trezieme or thirteenth part of the price, as by law provided.

If Grannie's scheme were carried out, therefore, she and Mrs. Hamon would become owners of the farm. Tom would be there on sufferance and might be kept within bounds or kicked out. Old Tom would have something more to throw into the holes at Port Gorey. And Nance and Bernel could be adequately provided for. An excellent scheme, therefore, for all concerned--except young Tom, who would have to behave himself better than he was in the habit of doing or suffer the consequences.

"Yes," said Nancy. "I don't see that I'd be doing right by Nance and Bernel not to agree to that. And if Tom behaves himself," at which Grannie grunted doubtfully, "he can have his share when the time comes."

CHAPTER VII

HOW GARD FOUGHT GALES AND TOM

So far the discussion as to the sale of the farm had been confined to the elders.

Young Tom had viewed John Guille's visits to the place with the lowering suspicion of a bull at a stranger's invasion of his field. He wondered what was going on and surmised that it was nothing to his advantage.

Words had been rare between him and his father since his refusal to lend himself to a loan on the farm, but his suspicion got the better of his obstinacy at last.

"What's John Guille want coming about here so much?" he demanded bluntly.

"I suppose he can come if he wants to. He's going to buy the farm."

"Going--to--buy--the--farm!... You--going--to--sell--the--farm--away-- from--me?" roared young Tom, like the bull wounded to the quick.

"Ouaie, pardi! And why not? You had the chance of saving it and you wouldn't."

"If you do it, I'll--"

"Ouaie! You'll--"

"I'll--Go'zammin, I'll--I'll--"

"Unless you're a fool, mon gars, you'll be careful what you say or do.

It'll all come back from the mines and you'll have your share if you behave yourself."

"---- you and your mines!" was Tom's valedictory, and he flung away in mortal anger; anger, too, which, from a Sark point of view, was by no means unjustified. Selling the estate away from the rightful heir was disinheritance, a blow below the belt which most testators reserve until they are safe from reach of bodily harm.

Tom left the house and cut all connection with his family. He drifted away like a threatening cloud, and the sun shone out, and Stephen Gard, with the rest, found greater comfort in his room than they had ever found in his company.

So gracious, indeed, did the atmosphere of the house become, purged of Tom, that Gard, to his great joy, found even Nance not impossible of approach.

He had always treated her with extremest deference and courtesy, respecting, as far as he was able, her evident wish for nothing but the most distant intercourse.

But he was such a very great change from Tom!