"
"You'll not find that in the covenant, sir," said the farmer with a
grin.
"But, father," began the son, a more intelligent-looking man, though
with the prevailing sickly tint.
"Hold your tongue, Phil," said Ogden. "It's easy to talk of cleaning
out the yard; I'd like to see the gentleman set about it, or you
either, for that matter."
"Would you?" said Harold. "Then you shall."
Farmer Ogden gaped. "I won't have no strange labourers about the
place."
"No more you shall," said Harold. "If your son and I clean out this
place with our own hands in the course of a couple of days, putting
the manure in any field you may appoint, will you let the drainage
plans be carried out without opposition ?"
"It ain't a bet?" said the farmer; "for my missus's conscience is
against bets."
"No, certainly not."
"Nor a trick?" he said, looking from one to another.
"No. It is to be honest work. I am a farmer, and know what work is,
and have done it too."
Farmer Ogden, to a certain extent, gave in, and we departed. His son
held the gate open for us, with a keen look at Harold, full of wonder
and inquiry.
"You'll stand by me?" said Harold, lingering with him.
"Yes, sir," said Phil Ogden; "but I doubt if we can do it. Father
says it is a week's work for five men, if you could get them to do
it."
"Never fear," said Harold.
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