"Then," Mrs. Hastings broke in, "I'll suggest a proposition: what's to be the result of all this ploughing if we have harvest frost or the market goes against you?"
"Quite a big deficit," said Wyllard cheerfully.
"And that doesn't cause you any anxiety?"
"I'll have had some amusement for my money."
Mrs. Hastings turned to Agatha. "He calls working from sunrise until it's dark, and afterwards now and then, amusement!" Then she looked back at Wyllard. "I believe it isn't quite easy for you to hold your back as straight as you are doing, and that off-horse certainly looks as if it wanted to lie down."
Wyllard laughed. "It won't until after supper, anyway. There are two more rows of furrows still to do."
"I suppose that is a hint," and Mrs. Hastings glanced at Agatha when the waggon jolted on.
"That man," she said, "is a great favourite of mine. For one thing, he's fastidious, though he's fortunately very far from perfect in some respects. He has a red-hot temper, which now and then runs away with him."
"What do you mean by fastidious?"
"It's a little difficult to define, but I certainly don't mean pernicketty. Of course, there is a fastidiousness which makes one shrink from unpleasant things, but Harry's is the other kind. It impels him to do them every now and then."