That brings back the memory of Long John Corlett and his threat of “putting the law” on her.
It must have been stuff and nonsense about the dilapidations eating up the stock, but she will see an advocate and have things settled up immediately.
“I’m afraid the man is right, miss.”
It is the advocate whom Mona is consulting.
“It was a bad bargain your poor father made with the Government, and the only people likely to profit by it are the landlord and the incoming tenant.”
“Then what do you advise me to do, sir?”
“Sell up your stock, have the dilapidations valued, pay the money due, and start afresh on whatever is left.”
“Do it for me at once, please,” says Mona, and she sets off home with an easy, if not a happy, mind.
But hardly has she got there and changed into her dairy clothes, and begun on her evening milking in the cow-house, with the watery winter sun coming in on her through the open door, when she sees Oskar approaching with a look that strikes to her heart. His face is white, almost ghastly, and he is walking like an old man, bent and feeble.
“What has happened?”