'Good-day, Sir Henry,' said the farmer, laying a hand on Chicksands' bridle, 'I wanted a word with you, sir. I give you fair warning, you and your Committee, you'll not turn me out without a fight! I was never given no proper notice—and there are plenty as 'll stand by me.'
The voice was thick and angry, and the hand shook. Sir Henry drew his horse away, and the man's hold dropped.
'Of course you had every notice,' said Sir Henry drily.
'I hadn't,' the man persisted. 'If the letters as they talk of were sent, I never saw 'em. And when the Committee came I was out—on business. Can't a man be out on his lawful business, Sir Henry, instead of dancin' attendance on men as know no better than he? The way this Government is doing things—you might as well live under the Czar of Russia as in this country. It's no country this for free men now, Sir Henry.'
'The Czar of Russia has come to grief, my man, for the same reason that you have,' said Sir Henry, gathering up the reins, 'for shirking his duty. All very well before the war, but now we can't afford this kind of thing.'
'And so you've told the Squire to turn me out?' said the man fiercely, his hands on his sides.
'You've had no notice from Mr. Mannering yet?'
'Not a word.'
'But you've heard from the Inspection Committee?'
The man nodded.