“I hope you will not take to chapel going!”
“Why not, mother?” laughed John. “It is a rule of mine to go everywhere, and see everything that I can. And it has answered very well, too. I assure you that one sometimes gets splendidly entertained in most unlikely places.”
“I hope you will not seek entertainment there, at all events; though, of course, you must do as you like now.” Mrs. Hunter accompanied the last clause with a significant sigh of resignation.
“That is a privilege you have always given me,” he answered, gently, “and I hope it has done me no harm. But here we are in the wood again. Mother, haven’t you heard people say that they love the very ground they tread on? That is how I feel to-day. I wonder how it is that we all have such a regard for land.”
“Because of what it brings forth, I suppose.”
“I scarcely think that accounts for it altogether. Of course, as the land is such a marvellous producer of wealth, it is only right and natural that it should be respected and well-treated. But it is no thought of crops that makes me like to look at it to-day.”
“That is as well, perhaps,” said Mrs. Hunter, grimly, “for he who sets his heart upon crops in these days is likely to become heart-broken.”
“I know they have been very poor for several seasons.”
“They have been utterly and wholly disappointing failures. I can tell you, John, that you have been spared an immense amount of worry by your residence abroad. Rain has come when we wanted it dry, and drought when we needed rain. Summers have had no sunshine, and winters no snow. This last winter, indeed, has been more like the old-fashioned kind; so, perhaps, the tide of misfortune is turning, and we may hope for better things. I should like one change which I suppose I shall not live to see, and that is the reduction of the present high rate of wages paid to agricultural labourers.”
“High wages do you call them? What do you think you could do with an income of sixteen shillings a week, mother?”