Lilac glanced at the various feathered families outside; they were supposed to be Bella’s charge, she knew, but she generally gave them over to Agnetta, who looked after them when she was inclined, and often forgot to search for the eggs altogether.
“They wants care,” continued Ben, “as well as most things. I don’t name no names, but the young broods had ought to be better looked after in the spring. And they’re worth it. There’s ducks now—chancy things is early ducks, but they pay well. Git ’em hatched out early. Feed ’em often. Keep ’em warm and dry at fust. Let ’em go into the water at the right time. Kill ’em and send ’em up to Lunnon, and there you are—a good profit. Why, you’ll git 15 shillings the couple for ducklings in March! That’s not a price to sneeze at, that isn’t. I name no names,” he repeated mysteriously, “but them as don’t choose to take the pains can’t expect the profit.”
At supper that night Lilac remembered this conversation with Ben, and examined Peter’s countenance curiously as he sat opposite to her with his whole being apparently engrossed by the meal. She could not, however, discover any kind or pleasant expression upon it. If it were there at all, it was unable to struggle through the thick dull mask spread over it. Bella meanwhile had news to tell. She had heard at Dimbleby’s that afternoon that there was to be a grand fête in Lenham next week. Fireworks and a balloon, and perhaps dancing and a band. Charlotte Smith said it would be splendid, and she was going to have a new hat on purpose.
“Well, I haven’t got no money to throw away on new hats and suchlike,” said Mrs Greenways, “but I s’pose you and Agnetta’ll want to go too.”
“How’ll we get over there?” asked Bella, looking fixedly at Peter, who did not raise his eyes from his plate. Mrs Greenways turned her glance in the same direction, and said presently:
“Well, perhaps Peter he could drive you over in the spring cart.”
“Hay harvest,” muttered Peter, deep down in his mug; “couldn’t spare time.”
“Oh, bother,” said Bella. “Then we must do with Ben.”
“Couldn’t spare him neither,” was Peter’s answer. “Heavy crop. Want all the hands we can get.”
Bella pouted and Agnetta looked on the edge of tears. Mrs Greenways, anxious to settle matters comfortably, made another suggestion.