“Yes, Mrs. Applebird told my mother. Going to Sticklepath.”
“Not easy to get a tenant to take their place.”
“Is it not? Such a farm as yours? I should have thought there need be no difficulty.”
“There are tenants and tenants. How would you like it—you and your mother? Then you could marry and be comfortable. No doubt Chris Blanchard would make a splendid farmer’s wife.”
“It would be like walking into paradise for me; but—”
“The rent needn’t bother you. My first care is a good tenant. Besides, rent may take other shapes than pounds, shillings, and pence.”
Hicks started.
“I see,” he said; “you can’t forget the chance word I spoke in anger so long ago.”
“I can’t, because it happened to be just the word I wanted to hear. My quarrel with Will Blanchard’s no business of yours. The man’s your enemy too; and you’re a fool to stand in your own light, You know something that I don’t know, concerning those weeks during which he disappeared. Well, tell me. You can only live your life once. Why let it run to rot when the Red House Farm wants a tenant? A man you despise, too.”
“No. I promised. Besides, you wouldn’t be contented with the knowledge; you’d act on it.”