ree or four acres of land, he could soon make himself
independent of the farmers. He knew that at harvest-times, and
whenever there was a pinch for good labourers, they would be glad
enough to have him; while at other times, with a few acres of his
own, he would be his own master and could do much better for
himself. So he had put his name down first on the Doctor's list,
taken the largest lot he could get, and worked it so well that
his crops, amongst others, had been a sort of village show last
harvest-time. Many of the neighboring allotments stood out in sad
contrast to those of Harry and the more energetic of the
peasantry, and lay by the side of these latter only half worked
and full of weeds, and the rent was never ready. It was worse
than useless to let matters go on thus, and the question arose,
what was to be done with the neglected lots. Harry, and all the
men like him, applied at once for them; and their eagerness to
get them had roused some natural jealousy amongst the farmers,
who began to foresee that the new system might shortly leave them
with none but the worst labourers. So the vestry had pressed on
the Doctor, as Dame Winburn said, not to let any man have more
than an acre, or an acre and a half; and the well-meaning,
easy-going invalid old man couldn't make up his mind what to do.
So here was May again, and the neglected lots were still in the
nominal occupation of the idlers. The Doctor got no rent, and was
annoyed at the partial failure of a scheme which he had not
indeed originated, but for which he had taken much credit to
himself. The negligent occupiers grumbled that they were not
allowed a drawback for manure, and that no pigstyes were put up
for them. "'Twas allers understood so," they maintained, "and
they'd never ha' took to the lots but for that." The good men
grumbled that it would be too late now for them to do more than
clean the lots of weeds this year. The farmers grumbled that it
was always understood that no man should have more than one lot.
The poor rector had led his flock into a miry place with a
vengeance. People who cannot make up their minds breed trouble in
other places besides country villages. However quiet and out of
the way the place may be, there is always some _quasi_ public
topic, which stands, to the rural Englishman, in the place of
treaty, or budget, or reform-bill. So the great allotment
question, for the time, was that which exercised the minds of the
inhabitan