That afternoon Mr. Levinger had a long conversation with Mrs. Gillingwater, whom he sent for to see him after Ellen had gone.
With the particulars of this interview we need not concern ourselves, but the name of Samuel Rock was mentioned in it.
On the following morning it chanced that Mr. Samuel Rock received a letter from Mr. Levinger referring to the erection of a cattle-shed upon some fifty acres of grass land which he held as that gentleman’s tenant. This cattle-shed Samuel had long desired; indeed, it is not too much to say that he had clamoured for it, for he did not belong to that class of tenant which considers the landlord’s pocket, or makes shift without improvements when they can be had by importunity. Consequently, as was suggested in the letter, he hastened to present himself at Monk’s Lodge on that very afternoon, adorned in his shiniest black coat and his broadest-brimmed wide-awake.
“The man looks more like a Methodist parson than ever,” thought Mr. Levinger, as he watched his advent. “I wonder if she will have anything to say to him? Well, I must try.”
In due course Samuel Rock was shown in, and took the chair that was offered to him, upon the very edge of which he seated himself in a gingerly fashion, his broad hat resting on his knee. Mr. Rock’s manner towards his landlord was neither defiant nor obsequious, but rather an unhappy combination of these two styles. He did not touch his forehead according to the custom of the old-times tenant, nor did he offer to shake hands. His greeting consisted of a jerky bow, lacking alike dignity and politeness, a half-hearted salute which seemed to aim at compromise between a certain respect for tradition and a proper sense of the equality of all men in the sight of Heaven.
“How do you do, Mr. Rock?” said Mr. Levinger cheerfully. “I thought that I would ask you to have a chat with me on the matter of that cowshed, about which you spoke at the audit last January—rather strongly, if I remember.”
“Yes, Mr. Levinger, sir,” answered Samuel, in a hesitating but mellifluous voice. “I shall be very glad to speak about it. A shed is needed on those marshes, sir, where we look to let the cattle lie out till late in autumn, un-tempered to all the winds of heaven, which blow keen down there, and also in the spring; and I hope you see your way to build one, Mr. Levinger, else I fear that I shall have to give you notice and find others more accommodating.”
“Really! do you think so? Well, if you wish to do that, I am ready to meet you half way and accept short service, so that you can clear out next Michaelmas; for I don’t mind telling you that I know another party who will be glad to take the land.”
“Indeed, sir, I was not aware,” answered Samuel, running his fingers through his straight hair uncomfortably—for the last thing that he desired was to part with these particular marshes. “Not that I should wish to stand between a landlord and a better offer in these times. Still, Mr. Levinger, I don’t hold it right, as between man and man, to slip like that behind a tenant’s back as has always paid his rent.”
The conversation, which was a long one, need not be pursued further. Samuel was of the opinion that Mr. Levinger should bear the entire cost of the shed, which the latter declined to do. At length, however, an arrangement was effected that proved mutually satisfactory; the “said landlord” agreeing to find all material necessary, and to pay the skilled labour, and the “said tenant” undertaking to dig the holes for the posts and to cut the reed for thatch.