Margaret Maliphant

								

he could to retrieve the fortunes of his father's farm, but the
speculation was too far gone before he took the reins; and the elder
Harrod had died a ruined man, leaving his son to shift for himself.
All this I had gleaned from talk between my parents and the squire in
our own house; but it was mortifying, even though I had not guessed at
that time that there was any real danger of his coming to Knellestone.
For that had only been settled two days ago, and I could not help
fancying that Mr. Hoad was partly to blame.
Of course there was no denying that father had been ill again--not so
seriously ill as in the winter, but incapacitated for active life.
He had not been able to mount his horse nor to walk farther than the
garden plot at the top of the terrace for over a fortnight.
The doctor had suggested a bath-chair; but the idea of a farmer being
seen in a bath-chair was positively insulting, and I would rather
have seen him shut in-doors for a month than showing himself to the
neighbors in such a plight. The idea was abandoned; but gradually, and
without any sign, his mind came round to the plan which he had at first
so violently repudiated--that of a bailiff for Knellestone.
I do not know whether it was really Mr. Hoad who had anything to do
with his decision. He certainly had influence over father, and had
been very often at the Grange of late, but it may have been merely the
effect which Mr. Harrod himself produced. Anyhow, a fortnight or so
after the dinner at the Manor, father announced to us abruptly at the
dinner-table that he had that morning written to engage "that young man
of the squire's" to come to Knellestone. His manner had been so queer
when he said it that nobody had questioned him further on the matter;
and as for me, I had been so thoroughly knocked down by the news that I
do not think I had spoken to father since!
If my sister's departure had not been arranged--and in a great measure
arranged by me--before this news had come, I am sure that I should not
have suggested it; for it was the first time in our lives that we had
been parted, and, reserved as I was, I felt that I wanted Joyce to be
there during this family crisis.
She at least never allowed herself to be ruffled, and though this
characteristic had its annoying side, there was comfort in it; and
just at that particular moment we needed a soother, for the family was
altogether in a somewhat ruffled condition.
Father was cross because of what he had been driven into doing with
regard to the bailiff. Mother was cross because the squire had not
proposed for Joyce, and Captain Forrester had. And I was cross--more
cross than any one--because I was an opinionated young woman, and
wanted to have a finger in the management of every pie.
It was a good thing that Joyce took even her own share in these matters
more quietly than I took it for her. Nevertheless, even she was a
little dismal that evening. How was it possible that she could be happy