XXIV
It was the second week in May when the seigniory farmers began to arrive and closet themselves with Mr. Ewart in the office. The "going" was atrocious, and the appearance at the side door of the clay-clogged cariole, buggy, calèche and farm-cart, bore witness to this fact.
Jamie and I were on the watch for each arrival. We knew nearly all of these habitant-farmers. They hitched their "team", and spent hours with Mr. Ewart. Sometimes, when we were in the living-room, we could hear voices from the office in lively and earnest discussion. We remarked the air of pride and satisfaction with which each one unhitched his horse, climbed into his special conveyance, slapped the reins on his animal's back and was off with a merry "Bonnes nouvelles!" to his habitant-wife who, while waiting for her husband, had been in the kitchen exchanging courtesies with Angélique, and feasting on freshly fried doughnuts and hot coffee. The notary from Richelieu-en-Bas, as well as the county surveyor, were also closeted with Mr. Ewart; they arrived after breakfast and left before supper. At dinner they were our guests, but no business topics were mentioned.
By Saturday, the routine of visitation was concluded. The notary departed with his green baize bag apparently bursting with documents. It was Angélique who informed us after his departure that the seignior had been receiving the seignioral rents with his own hand.
The next morning at the breakfast table, Mr. Ewart asked me if I would help him to audit some accounts, the farmers having just paid their half-yearly rents.
"At what hour?" I asked.
"I shall need your help for the entire forenoon and probably for an hour or two after dinner. Shall we say at nine?"
"Can't I help?" said Jamie, rather half-heartedly I must confess.
Mr. Ewart took in the situation by the tone, and smiled as he answered:
"No; you 're too busy with your work; the prose of figures would n't appeal to you just now."