"What the devil are you talking about?" demanded Robin, turning upon him with a sudden fierceness.
Innocent gave him an appealing look.
"Don't!—Oh, don't quarrel!" she whispered,—and with a parting nod to the whole party of workers she hurried away.
With her disappearance came a brief pause among the men. Then Robin, turning away from Landon, proceeded to give various orders. He was a person in authority, and as everyone knew, was likely to be the owner of the farm when his uncle was dead. Landon went close up to him.
"Mr. Clifford," he said, somewhat thickly, "you heard what I said just now? You mustn't expect to have it all your own way! There's other men after the girl as well as you!"
Clifford glanced him up and down.
"Yourself, I suppose?" he retorted.
"And why not?" sneered Landon.
"Only because there are two sides to every question," said Clifford, carelessly, with a laugh. "And no decision can be arrived at till both are heard!"
He climbed up among the other men and set to work, stacking steadily, and singing in a fine soft baritone the old fifteenth-century song: