“And you’re doing well with the farm, too, it seems,” said Mr Conroy. “Those are good-looking fowls you have, and the pig is fine and fat. How many cows have you, now?”
“Two, and a heifer,” said Mr McQueen.
“You drained that field over by the bog this year, didn’t you, and have it planted to turnips?” went on Mr Conroy. “I’m glad to see you so prosperous, McQueen. Of course, now, the farm is worth more than it was when you first took it, and so you’ll not be surprised that I’m raising the rent on you.”
“If the farm is worth more, ’tis my work that has made it so,” said Mr McQueen, “and I shouldn’t be punished for that. The house is none too good at all, and the place is not worth more. Last year was the drought and all manner of bad luck, and next year may be no better. Truly, Mr Conroy, if you press me, I don’t know how I can scrape more together than I’m paying now.”
“Well, then,” said Mr Conroy. “You must just find a way, for this is one of the best farms about here, and you should pay as much as any one.”
“You can’t get money by shaking a man with empty pockets,” said Mr McQueen.
But Mr Conroy only laughed and said:
“You’ll have five pounds in yours when next rent-day comes around, or ’twill be the worse for you. You wouldn’t like to be evicted, I’m sure.”
Then he mounted his horse and rode away.
Mr McQueen went into the house with a heavy heart, and told his wife the bad news.