“He says I can have the cottage over to Crossways,” said Job. “He knows ’tis three mile farther from my work. But that’s not all. ’Tis double the rent, and I can’t afford it. And that’s the long and short of it.”
Antony dug his hoe savagely into the earth.
“Why can’t he be putting his own chauffeur there, and be paying him wage enough for the higher rent?” he asked.
“Why can’t he?” said Job bitterly. “Because he won’t. He’s had his knife into me ever since March last, when I paid up my rent which he thought I couldn’t do. I’d been asking him for time; then the last day—well, I got the money. I wasn’t going to tell him how I got it, and he thought I’d been crying off with no reason. See? Now he thinks he can force me to the higher rent. ’Tis a bigger cottage, but ’tis so far off, even well-to-do folk fight shy of the extra walk, and so it’s stood empty a year and more. Now he’s thinking he’ll force my hand.”
Antony frowned.
“What’ll you do?” he demanded.
“The Lord knows,” returned Job gloomily. “If I chuck up my work here, how do I know I’ll get a job elsewhere? If I go to the other place I’ll be behind with my rent for dead certain, and get kicked out of that, and be at the loss of ten shillings or so for the move. I’ve not told the wife yet. But I can see nought for it but to look out for a job elsewhere. Wish I’d never set foot in this blasted little Devonshire village. Wish I’d stayed in my own parts.”
Antony was making a mental survey of affairs, a survey at once detailed yet rapid.
“Look here,” said he, “I’d give a pretty good deal to get even with that old skinflint, I would that. You and your wife just shift up along with me. There’s an extra room upstairs with nothing in it at all. We’ll manage top hole. Sure, ’twill be fine havin’ me cooking done for me. You can be giving me the matter of a shilling a week, and let the cooking go for the rest of the rent. What’ll you be thinking at all?”
Now, the offer was prompted by sheer impulsive kind-heartedness, wedded to a keen indignation at injustice. Yet it must be confessed that a sensation exceeding akin to dismay followed close on its heels. Of his own free will he was flinging his privacy from him, and hugging intrusion to his heart.