“A goodish deal,” I answered. “I expect he will be going down on Monday. Very annoying, this stove business.”
“What is the use of his being there without you?” Ethelbertha wanted to know.
“Oh, he’ll potter round,” I suggested, “and take measurements. Dick will be about to explain things to him. Or, if he isn’t, there’s Robina—awkward thing is, Robina seems to have taken a dislike to him.”
“Why has she taken a dislike to him?” asked Ethelbertha.
“Oh, because he mistook the back of the house for the front, or the front of the house for the back,” I explained; “I forget which now. Says it’s his smile that irritates her. She owns herself there’s no real reason.”
“When will you be going down again?” Ethelbertha asked.
“On Thursday next,” I told her; “stove or no stove.”
She said she would come with me. She felt the change would do her good, and promised not to do anything when she got there. And then I told her all that I had done for Dick.
“The ordinary farmer,” I pointed out to her, “is so often a haphazard type of man with no ideas. If successful, it is by reason of a natural instinct which cannot be taught. St. Leonard has studied the theory of the thing. From him Dick will learn all that can be learnt about farming. The selection, I felt, demanded careful judgment.”
“But will Dick stick to it?” Ethelbertha wondered.