"You needn't complain if Mardy doesn't," said Prue, sharply.
"Go change your dress, Prue; no one has complained nor blamed you," said her mother.
Prue retreated with bad grace, but in a moment called pleasantly from her room: "Here comes Mr. Flinders, Mardy. He looks glummer than usual."
"Go down, one of you girls; I'm really too tired to encounter him now," said Mrs. Grey, wearily. She had had many sore experiences of the farmer who carried on their garden on shares, and who was always ready to cut down their share to the minimum.
Rob arose with a sigh. There was a tacit understanding that in any matter of business it should be she, and not Wythie, who came to the front.
"Something has failed," she said, laconically, speaking from past experience and the pessimism of a humid, tiresome day.
"Good day, Roberta," said Mr. Flinders, when Rob appeared at the door. "I'm afraid I've got to say what you won't want to hear."
"Very likely, Mr. Flinders," said Rob, drearily. "I am so tired to-night there are few things I should want to hear."
"Well, the pertaters is doing bad—your pertaters," said Mr. Flinders. "I thought mebbe you'd want to know in time to engage some."