“If the smaller men can’t afford experts to run their estates, they must supply the necessary knowledge themselves. That means hard work and at best small pay. And—more intelligence in the working.”
“We’ll go to bed,” said the Squire.
He rose, looking affectionately at his son.
“By the way,” he said lightly, “I’ve let the shootin’ this year, but that won’t affect you.”
“Let the shooting?”
The Squire nodded. Lionel’s disconcerted face rather pleased him. The boy was a chip of the old block. He added curtly:
“I shan’t make a habit of it. The extra money comes in handy.”
Lionel hesitated and flushed.
“Are you really hard up?”
“Well—yes. Let’s leave it at that.” His voice became genial. “I told you to-night, because old Ben would be sure to blurt it out to you to-morrow morning. No complaints! You’re at home again, and as fit as a fiddle. Don’t worry! We shall pull through.”