"Indeed," said I. "Well, I suppose ours aren't a good sort, then."
"That's for them as knows to say," replied the old man. "The Lord have made growths for every part, and it's ill flyin' in the face of the Lord."
"Well, Mr. Harrod knows," declared I.
"Nay, miss, he warn't born and bred hereabouts. But I says to him, 'You ask Jack Barnstaple,' says I. 'He knows,' says I."
"You said that to Mr. Harrod, Reuben!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, miss," he answered, "I did."
"Well, then, I think it was very rude of you, Reuben. That's all I have to say."
"Nay, miss, I heard you say as how a stranger wouldn't be o' no good to master," grinned Reuben. "They don't understand."
"If I said that I made a great mistake," answered I, half angrily. "I think Mr. Harrod is a great deal of use."
"Well, miss, if he be agoing to have Goldings planted in instead of Early Prolifics, he won't get no change out o' the ground, that's what I say. They won't thrive for nobody, and they won't do it to please him."