Frank was much of his father's son, despite the difference of age, and that more fastidious change of manner which characterises each succeeding race in the progress of civilisation. Despite all his Eton finery, he was familiar with peasants, and had the quick eye of one country-born as to country matters.
"You don't seem very well off in this village, my man?" said he knowingly.
"Noa; there be a deal of distress here in the winter time, and summer too, for that matter; and the parish ben't much help to a single man."
"But the farmers want work here as well as elsewhere, I suppose?"
"'Deed, and there ben't much farming work here—most o' the parish be all wild ground loike."
"The poor have a right of common, I suppose," said Frank, surveying a large assortment of vagabond birds and quadrupeds.
"Yes; neighbour Timmins keeps his geese on the common, and some has a cow—and them be neighbour Jowlas's pigs. I don't know if there's a right, loike; but the folks at the Hall does all they can to help us, and that ben't much: they ben't as rich as some folks; but," added the peasant proudly, "they be as good blood as any in the shire."
"I'm glad to see you like them, at all events."
"Oh yes, I likes them well eno'; mayhap you are at school with the young gentleman?"
"Yes," said Frank.