"It's absurd," she said. "Stephen is looking after Joseph. He is far better off now than we are or ever shall be again. And you know he always meant to leave everything to Joe and Roman. Keep your money. We shall want it badly enough before the war is over."
He said no more about it, but returned to the lunch.
"It would have been a better one if I'd known sooner," he remarked as they left the table. "However, the wine is all right. And they'll be too happy to notice what they are eating."
"Oh, Ianek, I do wish you hadn't promised him to keep her here," she exclaimed.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her white hair, laughing a little at her concern.
"Never mind, Mother. You've no idea how good plowing is for the sentiments."
This was another grievance. She exclaimed indignantly:
"To think you have to work like a peasant!"
"I want my crops. And when I've no manager, overseer or bailiff, and very few laborers, what can I do? It's good for me, I'm fit as a fiddle." And he made her feel the muscles on his arms, which were like iron.
"We seem to have become yeoman farmers," she said. "Oh, I'm not complaining for myself."