“Why, what do you mean, child?”
“That, if the whole world had been thoroughly scoured to find the one man most unsuitable for the occupation of farming, they could not have done better than light on you.”
“Olivia, I’m surprised at you!” said her father, assuming a tone of great dignity, mingled with indignation.
“Ah, you may well be surprised to find a girl with as much common sense as a man,” retorted she, merrily. For since her return from Matherham her spirits had risen in an extraordinary manner. “Now, papa, look at John Oldshaw. He’s a perfect type of a successful farmer. And he’s mean, and he’s vulgar, and he’s industrious, and he’s economical; while you, pardon me, are none of those things. I don’t say that all good farmers are like John Oldshaw, but I’m certain none of them are a bit like you. And if he can persuade you that you’ll never do anything at farming but lose your money, and catch cold looking at oats that won’t ripen and turnips that won’t come up, he’ll do you a very great service.”
“But, my dear,” remonstrated her father, not quite certain whether to be amused or offended by her wicked plain speaking, “you don’t understand these things. Women never do, of course. It’s not their province and we don’t expect it of them.” The poor old fellow’s tone grew more confident when he got into these mild platitudes. “John Oldshaw has always shown himself jealous of me: firstly, because I’m a gentleman; and, secondly, because I conduct my farming on different principles from his.”
“Yes, papa,” said Olivia, demurely, “on very different principles. He gets large crops and you get small ones. And John Oldshaw wants to turn you out, and apply his principles to your land. And I wish you would let him.”
Mr. Denison sighed. He could not quite hide from himself that there were grains of truth and good sense in his daughter’s suggestions. But the secret admission made him impatient and irritable.
“Of course,” he said turning upon her, “I’m not likely to get on here or anywhere while my people insult the friends who would help me to tide over the bad time.”
“Do you mean that I’ve insulted Fred Williams, papa?” asked Olivia who was too straightforward to allow the talk to be carried on by innuendoes.
“Well, and what if I do?” asked Mr. Denison, taken aback. For he was one of those persons who would walk round about a fact for ever without facing it.