"Father and I are not going to quarrel about Mr. Askew's farming; it is not worth while," she said and studied Osborn with half-penitent sympathy.
The strong light touched his face, forcing up the deep lines and wrinkles, and she thought he was getting older fast. His eyes were dull and his shoulders were slightly bent. She knew about some of his troubles and suspected others, but the stamp of indulgence that had got plainer in the last year or two disturbed her.
"The Askews seem fated to give me trouble," he went on. "Now the fellow has begun to drain, his neighbors will expect me to do so. In fact, Black and Pattinson bothered Hayes about some plans for buying pipes when they paid their rent. Besides, the contrast hurts; I don't see why a fellow like Askew should be able to waste money on rash experiments when we have not enough. However, this leads to another matter; Gerald comes back tomorrow, and will no doubt, grumble about his poverty. If he does, you must give him nothing. He has his pay and I make him an allowance. I won't have his extravagance encouraged."
Grace smiled as Mrs. Osborn got up with a disturbed look. "Mother cannot have much to give and I have nothing at all. I'm afraid Gerald's talent for begging will be used in vain."
She went out with Mrs. Osborn and when they had gone Osborn, crossing the floor to the sideboard, filled his glass to the top. This was his regular habit and its futility escaped him, although he knew his wife and daughter knew. He felt he did enough if he exercised some self-denial when they were about.
In the meantime, Mrs. Osborn sat down on the terrace and looked across the untidy lawn.
"We need a new pony mower; Jenkins cannot keep the grass in order with the small machine. He was very obstinate about the bedding plants he wanted to buy and the borders look thin, but I felt I must be firm," she said and added drearily: "I wonder when we shall be forced to get a sporting tenant and live in a smaller house."
"Father would not leave Tarnside. I suppose you don't know how things are really going?"
"I know they are not going well and suspect they get worse; but he will not tell me. One could help if one did know."
"I'm afraid I have disappointed father and given you anxieties you need not have had," Grace replied with some bitterness. "After all, however, the fault is hardly mine. I wanted to make my own career, but was not allowed; to work at a useful occupation, would somehow have humiliated our ridiculous pride, and there was, of course, only one hope left for you." She paused, and colored as she resumed: "Well, although I am not sorry, it looks as if that hope had gone."