It was more than a month since John had heard from his father. A few days after Ferrier's arrival he received a note which made him very angry.
"I'm on the mend. Doctor says my leg couldn't have healed better if I were ten years younger. Cousin Sylvia has been very good. Insists on making reparation for the damage (financial and physical) she has done me. 'Twas her chauffeur, and her motor-car, and so on. Upshot is that as you're getting on so well I'm inclined to accept her invitation of a run through the Continent. Will let you know when I sail. Cousin Sylvia sends her love.
"P.S. Glad to hear you got the lambing over well. Be sure and don't wean them too soon."
This apparently innocent note made John furious.
"You see what it is!" he cried, striding up and down the room. "That woman's got hold of him, and she'll marry him, and all our plans will be spoilt by an old--old--I don't know what to call her. Sends her love, indeed!"
Seeing that John was in a passion, Ferrier wisely said nothing, and the storm presently blew over.
The presence of Ferrier at the farm solved John's difficulty about the sheep and calves. He had rather more than 800 lambs altogether, of which 450 rams were for sale, and might be expected to fetch about £90. He had also fifteen calves, which might realize £1 each, and the £105 thus gained would relieve his present anxieties and go far towards defraying the second year's expenses. In addition to these, there was a considerable weight of cheese to be taken to market. He had become so chummy with Ferrier that he did not hesitate to mention to him the difficulty about transporting the animals.
"There's no difficulty at all," said the Canadian at once. "Take them yourself. I'll stay here while you are gone. A rest will do me all the good in the world. You must certainly leave a white man in charge, and I've come in the nick of time."