he news to Mrs. Norris, wild with the honour of Small
Profits. 'And,' said the farmer's wife, 'I always say Norris was as
pleased with what I told him, as I was with the tankard!'

Norris here came in, an unpretending, quiet man, of the modern,
intelligent race of farmers. There was anxiety at first in his eye,
but it cleared off as he heard the cause of his landlord's visit, and
he was as propitious as any cautious farmer could be. He was strong on
the present inconveniences, and agreed that it would be a great boon to
have a _few_ families brought back, such as were steady, and would not
burden the rates; but the _few_ recurred so often as to show that he
was afraid of a general migration of Marksedge. Lord Ormersfield
thereupon promised that he should be consulted as to the individuals.

'Thank you, my Lord. There are some families at Marksedge that one
would not wish to see nearer here; and I'll not say but I should like
to have a voice in the matter, for they are apt to take advantage of
Lord Fitzjocelyn's kindness.'

'I quite understand you. Nothing can be more reasonable. I only acted
because my son was persuaded it was your wish.'

'It is so, my Lord. I am greatly obliged. He has often talked of it
with me, and I had mentioned the matter to Mr. Richardson, but he
thought your lordship would be averse to doing anything.'

'I have not been able to do all I could have wished,' said the Earl.
'My son will have it in his power to turn more attention to the
property.'

And he _is_ a thorough farmer's friend, as they all say,' earnestly
exclaimed Norris, with warmth breaking through the civil formal manner.

'True,' said Lord Ormersfield, gratified; 'he is very much attached to
the place, and all connected with it.'

'I'm sure they're the same to him,' replied the farmer. 'As an
instance, my Lord, you'll excuse it--do you see that boy driving in the
cows? You would not look for much from him. Well, the morning the
doctor from London came down, that boy came to his work, crying so that
I thought he was ill. 'No, master,' said he, 'but what'll ever become
of us when we've lost my young Lord?' And he burst out again, fit to
break his heart. I told him I was sorry enough myself, but to go to
his work, for crying would do no good. 'I can't help it, master,' says
he, 'when I looks at the pigs. Didn't he find 'em all in the park, and
me nutting--and helped me his own self to drive 'em out before Mr.