"Do you mean to say you have let it?" David said, in a tone of incredulity.
"Of course I have let it. I could have let it five times over, for there's no denying it's an exceedingly pretty and compact little farm."
At this point Ralph came forward with white face and trembling lips.
"Did I hear you tell father that you had let this farm?" he questioned, bringing the words out slowly and with an effort.
"My business is with your father only," the squire said stiffly, and with a curl of the lip.
"What concerns my father concerns me," Ralph answered quietly, "for my labour has gone into the farm as well as his."
"That's nothing to the point," the squire answered stiffly. And he turned again to David, who stood with blanched face and downcast eyes.
"I want to make it as easy and pleasant for you as possible," the squire went on. "So I have arranged that you can stay here till Michaelmas without paying any rent at all."
David looked up with an expression of wonder in his eyes, but he did not reply.
"Between now and Michaelmas you will be able to look round you," the squire continued, "and, in case you don't intend to take a farm anywhere else, you will be able to get your corn threshed and such things as you don't want to take with you turned into money. William Jenkins, I understand, is willing to take the root crops at a valuation, also the straw, which, by the terms of your lease, cannot be taken off the farm."