“But I haven’t. I’ve put everything into stock.”
The hulking fellow slaps his leg with his riding whip and makes a long whistle.
“Well, so much the better if it’s all on the land.”
Then he drops from his saddle to the ground, and comes close to Mona as if to coax her.
“Look here, Mona woman, no one shall say John Corlett is a hard man. Leave everything on the farm as it stands, and we’ll cry quits this very minute.”
Mona looks at him in silence for a moment. Then she says, breathing rapidly:
“John Corlett, do you want to turn me out of my father’s farm a beggar and a pauper?”
“Chut, girl, what’s the odds? There’s somebody will be wanting you to follow him to foreign parts when he goes himself—though you might have done better at home, I’m thinking.”
Mona’s breath comes hot and fast and her face grows crimson. Then she falls on the man like a fury.