"Haven't I been saying so, sir, all along?" Simon was really injured now, and his wounded dignity showed in his tone. Mr. Dent was taking the whole thing far too easily, he thought. First of all, he did not seem to be listening as much as he might, and then, when the notice was offered, he actually smiled! Tenants of forty years' standing do not look to have their departure speeded with smiles. Simon thought it heartless, to say the least, and only to be excused because Mr. Dent did not know what they had to face. They had not been very satisfactory tenants, of course,--even Simon admitted that,--and it was more than likely that the agent was rather relieved. At least he was saved the unpleasant task of turning them out, a duty which, as Simon knew, had seemed imminent more than once. But they were respectable folk of good stock, and they were not entirely to blame because they were failures, too. Gravity was their due, anyhow, if not sympathy, but Mr. Dent, on this solemn occasion, seemed to be failing them in both.
"Of course you know you're late with your notice?" he observed presently, looking up. "You ought to have made up your minds a couple of months ago."
"Ay, we're late, I know, but we weren't thinking of owt o' the sort then. I'm sorry if we've put you about, but you'll not have that much trouble in getting rid of the farm. It's nobbut a small spot, you'll think on. It'll let right off the reel."
"It's been going back a long while, though," Dent said thoughtfully, and then felt penitent as the old man flushed. Just for the moment he had forgotten that Simon was in the room.
"Of course I know you've had pretty rough luck," he went on hastily, trying to cover it up. "Sandholes holds the record for every sort of mischance. It sounds like one of the old fairy-tales," he added, laughing,--"curses and all that! ... But I can't help thinking it would have been better for everybody if there had been a change earlier on."
"Ay, well, you've gitten your change now, and no mistake about it!" Simon retorted angrily, deeply hurt. There was something wrong with the scene, though he could not tell what it was. He only knew that he had not expected it to go in the very least like this.
"It should have been made long since if it was to do you any good...." Dent did not seem to notice that there was anything amiss. He sat, tapping the table, deep in thought, while Simon seethed.... "Sure you couldn't put on for another year?"
This change of front upset his visitor so completely that he dropped his hat. He sat glaring at Mr. Dent with a dropped mouth.
"Nay, then, I just couldn't!" he snapped at last, wondering whether he was on his head or his heels. "Losh save us!" he added angrily, "haven't I tellt you I meant to gang ever since I come in? It'll take me all my time to hang on till spring, as it is."
"You've run it as close as that?" Dent enquired, and Simon gave a grunt.