'What are you about?' asked Drownlands.
He had come into the yard behind the farmhouse, and he saw Zita engaged in harnessing the horse. The front was down, and on it stood a milk-strainer, some blacking-brushes, and a flail.
'What are you about? Whither are you going?'
Drownlands was a tall man, with a face like a hawk, and dark bushy brows that stood out over his eyes and the root of his nose.
'I am going,' answered Zita.
'Going? Who told you to go?'
'I am going to be an inconvenience no longer.'
'Who told you you were an inconvenience?'
'No one, but I know that I am not wanted. I thank you for what you have done, and will pay you.'
'Pay me? Who said a word about payment?'
'No one, but of course I pay. Mark RunhamI think that was his namewas kind to me,that is to say, he spoke civil to me,and I'm going to pay him for good words with a milk-strainer. You have done me good deeds, and I will pay you. Get into the van and pick out what you like up to five pounds. Do you want door-mats? There's a roll o' carpet, but I don't recommend it, and there's tinned goods.'
Drownlands stared at the girl. Then his eyes rested on the flail.
'What have you got that for? It was in my house.'
'Yes. You took it in. But it is not yours. It belongs to Mark Runham. His father bought it of us. He gave a guinea for it. I picked it up on the bank when I overtook you. You had your flail in your hand. You would have ridden on and left me and my father in the lurch, but I stood in the way with that flail. It is not mine. I have the guinea I received for it in my purse. Now that the old man is dead, for certain it belongs to his son. That is why I am taking it to him.'
'He shall not have it! He must not have it!' exclaimed Drownlands. 'How came you to know Mark Runham?'
'The young man walked from his father's funeral. So did I. He walked the fastest, and he caught me up. He spoke kindly, and so I shall pay him for it with a milk-strainer, or, if he prefers it, with blacking-brushes.'
'Give him the blacking-brushes, by all means.'
'Or the milk-strainer?'
'Or the milk-strainer; but not the flail.'
'It is his,' said Zita. 'The old man paid down his money for it.'
'Give him back the money, not the flail. Here'
Drownlands thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew a handful of money, gold, silver, copper, mixed, from it, and extended it to the girl.
'Here! you said you would pay me for what I have done. Pay me with the flail. I want nothing more. Then I have the pair; or if you wish to restore the guineatake it.'
'The flail was bought. It is no longer mine.'
Drownlands stamped, put out his hand and snatched the flail from the board on which it stood.
'He shall not have it. I will accept nothing else.'
'Then I must give the young man its valuea guinea's worth of goods.'
'Do so, and take the pay from me.'
'I will let him have your mats, and I'll tell him that you'
'Tell him nothing. Not a word about the flail. That is all I ask of you. Say nothing. If you owe me anything for what I have done for your father and you, then pay me by your silence.' He mused for a moment, then caught the girl by the arm and drew her after him. 'Come and see all I have.'
He led her athwart the rickyard to where were ranged his stacks of wheattwo, each forty paces long, with a lane between them. Down this lane he conducted her. 'Look,' said he, 'did you ever see such ricks as these? No, nowhere out of the Fens. Do you know how much bread is in them? No, nor I. It would take you many years to eat your way through them; and every year fresh wheatas much as thisgrows. There are rats and mice in these stacks. They sit therein and eat their fill, they rear their families there. What odds is that to me? A few more rats and micea few more mouths in the houseI care not. There is plenty for all.' Then he drew Zita into another yard that was full of young stock, bullocks and heifers.
'Look here,' said he. 'Do you see all these? How much meat is on them? How long would it take you to eat them? Whilst you were eating, others would be comingthat is the way of Nature. Nature outstrips us; it shovels in with both hands, whilst we take out with oneso is it, anyhow, in the Fens. What is another cut off a round of beef to such as me?'
Then he strode to the stables, threw open the door, and said, 'There are stalls for horses; there is hay in the loft to feed them, oats in the bins to nourish them. What odds to me if there be one more horse in the stalls? Here!' he called to one of his men. 'Take the Cheap Jack horse out of the van-shafts again and bring him to this stable.'
Zita endeavoured to free herself from his grasp.
'No,' said Drownlands; 'you have not seen all. You have been about the world, I daresay; seen plenty of sights; but there is one thing you have not seen before,a fen-farm,and it is a sight to unseal your eyes. Come along with me.'
He held her wrist with the grip of a vice, and now drew her in the direction of the kitchen.
'Look!' said he. 'What is that? That is our fuel. That is turf. What do we pay for keeping ourselves warm in winter? Nothing. I have heard say that some folks pay a pound and even forty shillings for a ton of sea-coal. And for wood they will pay a guinea a load. We pay nothing. The fuel lies under our feet. We take off a spit of earth, and there it is for the digging, some tenfifteentwenty feet of it. It costs us no more than the labour of taking up. Do I want a bit of brass? I go to market, and say I have ten acres of turf to sell at sixty pounds an acre. A dozen hands are held up. I get six hundred pounds at once. That is what I call making money. Come on. You have not seen all yet.'
He drew her farther. He pulled her up the steps to the door, then turned, and, pointing to a large field in which were mounds of clay at short intervals, he said
'Do you see that? What is done elsewhere when land is hungry, and demands a dressing? Lime is brought to fertilise the exhausted soil. We in the Fens never spend a shilling thus. If we desire dressing, we dig under the turf, and there it liesrich, fat clayand spread that over the surface. That is what it is to have a fen-farm. Come within now.'
He conducted Zita through the door, and threw open the dairy.
'Look,' said he. 'See the milk, the churns, the butter. Everything comes to us in the Fens. Butter is a shilling a pound, and there are twenty-eight pounds there now. There will be as much next churning, and all goes as fast as made. Touch that churn. Every time you work it you churn money. Come on with me farther.'
He made the girl ascend the stairs, and as he went along the passage at the head of the staircase, he threw open door after door.
'Look in. There are many rooms; not half of them are occupied, but all are furnished. Why should I stint furniture? I have moneymoney! See!' He drew her into a small apartment, where were desk and table and chairs. It was his office. He unlocked a safe in the wall.
'See! I have money hereall gold. Come to the window.'
Drownlands threw open the casement. Below was the yard, in which were the young cattle, trampling on straw and treading it into mire. He thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth a handful of coins, and, without looking what he held,whether gold, or silver, or copper,he threw it broadcast over the bullocks and heifers. Some coins struck the backs of the beasts, and bounded off them and fell among the straw, some went down into the mud, and was kneaded in by their feet.
'What is money to me? It grows, it forces itself on me, and I know not what to do with it. I can throw it away to free myself of the trash and more comes. It comes faster than I can use it; faster than I can cast it away. Now, girlCheap Jack girlnow you know what a fen-farm is. Now you see what a fen-tiger can do. You remain at Prickwillow with me. I will shelter you, feed you, clothe you, care for you. Eat, drink, sleep, laugh, and play. Work a little. All is given to you ungrudgingly.'
'What is money to me? It grows, it forces itself on me, and I know not what to do with it. I can throw it away to free myself of the trash and more comes. It comes faster than I can use it; faster than I can cast it away. Now, girlCheap Jack girlnow you know what a fen-farm is. Now you see what a fen-tiger can do. You remain at Prickwillow with me. I will shelter you, feed you, clothe you, care for you. Eat, drink, sleep, laugh, and play. Work a little. All is given to you ungrudgingly.'