"I told him also that I was not a rich woman. Until last year my farm was mortgaged and though I might this year be able to pay the wages he asked, it would mean that I should have to spend my savings and that in the end would have to be made up from the land. But I said that even if I were as rich as the Setons of Edenthorpe my answer to him would be the same. If there was any real need to increase my labourers' wages I would do it, for we Robsons haven't farmed at Anderby for nearly four hundred years without knowing that the first condition of success is good feeling between fellow-workers. But when I saw discontent spread among ignorant villagers by men whose profession it was to spread such unrest——"
Her quiet voice hesitated a moment. Bert saw her hand make a slight involuntary movement as though she were in pain.
"When I saw demands being made simply because journalists and union organizers and paid agitators—men from Manchester—were interfering where they had no experience, when I saw that one demand would lead to another, one interference from outside grow into an enforced separation of master from man, then I said I would fight that movement until my last penny was spent and the last sheaf of corn had gone from Anderby. Will you tell them that in the village?"
Again Bert nodded, because Mrs. Robson seemed to have got well away and there was no stopping her anyhow.
"Do you think you understand? Because I'm busy with my husband and can't speak for myself. Will you tell them that if the men will strike we must let them? We can all join together and get the harvest in somehow. Dawson and Foreman and Mike O'Flynn and a few others at the Wold Farm here won't go out I know—mind you, there mayn't be a strike."
"I doubt it."
"I doubt it too. The men know well enough which side their bread is buttered. The agitators'll go away and forget all about it and stir up trouble somewhere else where they'll be better paid and everything will be settled down just like it was before—oh, and I've spoken to the Willerbys too, and they'll do whatever Mr. Robson and I think best and I think the same thing applies to the other farmers. Now do you know what to say in the village?"
"Ay. Thank you, Mrs. Robson. I'm sure I always said——"
Mary smiled again. Her intensity relaxed, and Bert sighed with relief as she suddenly became again an ordinary farmer's wife entertaining a visitor.
"Oh, that's all right then. You'll have a glass of wine and a piece of cake before you go, won't you?"