“What do you mean, badgering him so?” cried Jerome, angrily.
“He's a mean old cuss, anyhow,” said the young man, with a defiant laugh.
“That's so! Serves him right,” grunted the others. They were all much younger than Jerome, and many of them were mere boys. It seemed strange that a man as sharp as Basset had taken them seriously.
Jerome, the more he thought it over, was convinced that Simon Basset was half crazed with the fear of parting with his money. When he came out of the store, he hesitated; he was half inclined to follow Basset home, and try to reason him into some understanding of the truth. Then, remembering his violent attitude towards himself, he decided that it would be useless, and went home. He planned to plough his garden that day.
“I've got to work at something,” Jerome told himself; “if it isn't one thing, it's got to be another.” He dwelt always upon Lucina: what she was thinking of him; if she thought that he did not love her, because he had given her up; if she would look at him, if she were to see him, as his sister had done the night before. Jerome had not yet answered Lucina's letter. He did not know how to answer it; but he carried it with him night and day.
He went home, got his horse and plough, and fell to work in his hilly garden ground. His father came out and sat on a stone and watched him happily. Jerome was scarcely accustomed to his father yet, but he treated him as tenderly as if he were a child, and the old man followed him like one. Indeed, he seemed to prefer his son to his wife, though Ann watched him with jealous affection. Ann Edwards had never walked since the night of her husband's return. She never alluded to it; sometimes her children thought that she had not known it herself.
Jerome was still ploughing in the afternoon when his uncle Ozias Lamb came.
Ozias stumped softly through the new-turned mould. He had a folded paper in his hand, and he extended it towards Jerome. “D'ye know anythin' about this?” he asked. His face was ashy.
Jerome brought his horse to a stand. “What is it?”
“Don't ye know?”