E-text prepared by Andrew Templeton, Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and
the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
by
Author of Robert Elsmere, Lady Rose's Daughter, Missing,Helena, etc.
1920
Two old labourers came out of the lane leading to Great End Farm. Bothcarried bags slung on sticks over their shoulders. One, the eldest andtallest, was a handsome fellow, with regular features and a delicatelyhumorous mouth. His stoop and his slouching gait, the gray locks also,which straggled from under his broad hat, showed him an old man—probablyvery near his old-age pension. But he carried still with him a lookof youth, and he had been a splendid creature in his time. The otherwas short of stature and of neck, bent besides by field work. Abroadly-built, clumsy man, with something gnome-like about him, and thecheerful look of one whose country nerves had never known the touch ofworry or long sickness. The name of the taller man was Peter Halsey, andJoseph Batts was his companion.
It was a fine July evening, with a cold north wind blowing from the plainwhich lay stretched to their right. Under the unclouded sun, which by itsown "sun-time" had only reached half-past four in the afternoon, thoughthe clock in the village church had already struck half-past five, theair was dry and parching, and the fields all round, the road itself, andthe dusty hedges showed signs of long drought.
"It du want rain," said Peter Halsey, looking at a crop of oats throughan open gate, "it du want rain—bad."
"Aye!" said the other, "that it du. Muster Shenstone had better 'a readthe prayer for rain lasst Sunday, I'm thinkin', than all them long onesas ee did read."
Halsey was silent a moment, his half-smiling eyes glancing from side toside. At last he said slowly,—
"We du be prayin' a lot about ower sins, and Muster Shenstone is alluspreachin' about 'em. But it's the sins o' the Garmins I be thinkin' of.If it hadn't a bin for the sins o' the Garmins my Tom wouldn't ha' lost'is right hand."
"An' ower Jim wouldn't be goin' into them trenches next November as everis," put in Batts. "It's the sins o' the Garmins as ha' done that, an'nothin' as you or I ha' done, Peter."
Halsey shook his head assentingly.
"Noa—for all that pratin', pacifist chap was sayin' lasst week. Ididn't believe a word ee said. 'Yis,' I says, 'if you want this war tostop, I'm o' your mind,' I says, 'but when you tells me as Englanddone it—you'm—'"
The short man burst into a cackling laugh.
"'You'm a liar!' Did you say that, Peter?"
Peter fenced a little.
"There be more ways nor one o' speakin' your mind," he said at last. "But
I stood up to un. Did you hear, Batts, as Great End Farm is let?"
The old man turned an animated look on his companion.
"Well, for sure!" said Batts, astonished. "An' who's the man?"
"It's not a man. It's a woman."
"A woman!" repeated Batts, wondering. "Well, these be funny times to livein, when the women go ridin' astride an' hay-balin', an' steam-ploughin',an' the Lord knows what. And now they must be takin' the farms, andturnin' out the men. Well, for sure."
A mild and puzzled laughter crossed the speaker's