“I came here to be in work, Frank.”
“The men work on their allotments only in their spare time, your Grace.”
“I see, I see. Thank you, Frank. I will certainly be out of work, if occasion arises to define precisely my economic position. I trust, however, that this is not an inquisitive neighbourhood.”
It was not, as a rule. But just now there were special circumstances, unknown to Frank—and to the Duke.
He began to dig at 9.30 A.M. His allotment had been a good deal neglected, and the ground happened to be hard. Presently he found himself afflicted with acute sensations in the back. He begun to wonder what men on allotments did when they felt tired. A thought struck him—a reminiscence of his wide and curious reading. Observing a small girl seated on the railing which bordered the allotments he approached her. “Child,” said he kindly, “be good enough to go to the nearest public-house and fetch me a pint of four-’alf.”
“W’ere’s your money?” said the child.
The Duke had been too realistic; there was no money in his pocket. He returned to his labours (he had promised himself to be independent of Frank for at least three hours) with a sigh. The little girl laughed scornfully, and then performed a somersault. The Duke was not quite pleased.
By twelve o’clock his back was very bad and his hands blistered. His corduroy trousers were cutting him at the back of the knees. Also it had begun to rain. “I have the sensation vividly enough for the moment. I will return to the cottage and have lunch,” he said to himself, throwing down his spade. He had turned up a considerable amount of earth, and had found some vegetables amongst it. He was not very clear what they were. He picked up his coat, put it on, and began instinctively to feel for a cigarette. No case was to be found.
“Oh, d—n that Frank!” said the Duke mechanically.
“Need you swear?” asked a voice suddenly.