He looked down at his hand as he spoke, and clenched it, for it was trembling. The other men looked at it, too, Lancaster with regretful eyes; but the younger glanced away sharply, and set the line of his mouth a trifle closer.
“It’s bad hearing!” the agent said at last, seeing that the son did not mean to speak. “You’ve been at Ninekyrkes so long, you Whinnerahs. Naturally we like to keep the farms in the family, if it’s a family worth having. We’d be more than sorry to part with you—you don’t need telling that. Can’t you see your way to stopping on a bit longer yourself?”
The old man raised himself painfully to his feet, looking indeed like a grim old wolf, with the last yard of pace run out of him, and the last ounce of fight gone from him. His name he owed to a family tradition tracing a connection with Hugh Lupus of the Conquest, through his sister Lucia. Wolf’s son had the name in its Latin dignity, long since distorted to everyday use.
“I said I was done, Mr. Lancaster! You’ve eyes in your head as’ll show you, right enough. Yon time I was down such a terrible while, a year come Martinmas, that finished me, or I’d have likely been good for another nice few years. But I can’t carry the whole farm, now. I must give it over to a younger pair o’ hands. Not that I’m grudging that; it comes to all of us, in the end; but I’m rare an’ sore they’ll not be Whinnerah hands, Mr. Lancaster! The lad’s set on going abroad, as I’ve told you. He says he’ll not bide. I could have done a bit on the farm along with him, even yet—odd jobs to earn my board and keep my old bones warmed, but wanting him I’ll have to quit for good, and see other folk of another breed in the old spot. It’s not what I looked for, sir, not what I meant, and I’ll take it hard. I’ll take it hard!”
He lowered himself shakily back to his chair, and his hand slid out again on the table, opening and shutting, opening and shutting. Lup did not move, nor did his mouth alter. There came a second silence.
“Well, you know your own business best, of course,” Lancaster said presently, wondering what lay behind; “but surely”—he turned to the young man—“surely you don’t really mean leaving us? There has never been any misunderstanding either on your side or ours that I know of. My father thought a lot of you all—that’s old news, isn’t it?—and I’m of his mind. What’s making you quit, Lup, just when you’re needed most?”
Lup looked at the table and his father’s hand.
“I can’t stop, sir,” he said, respectfully but quite definitely. “I’m sorry if it’s putting folk about, but I reckon I’ll be better suited on the other side o’ the dub.”
“Canada?” The agent smiled and frowned. “Come, Lup, we can’t part with you, and that’s the long and the short of it! They’re taking too many of our best men, as it is. I don’t want to preach, but doesn’t it seem to you that it’s your duty to stay with your father as long as he wants you?”
“Happen it be,” laconically.