so odd in
his ways. They do say he wears all that nasty hair on his face (I hate
hair on a man's face) on account of a vow he made when he lost his
wife. Don't you think, Mr. Lefrank, a man must be a little mad who
shows his grief at losing his wife by vowing that he will never shave
himself again? Well, that's what they do say John Jago vowed. Perhaps
it's a lie. People are such liars here! Anyway, it's truth (the boys
themselves confess _that_), when John came to the farm, he came with a
first-rate character. The old father here isn't easy to please; and he
pleased the old father. Yes, that's so. Mr. Meadowcroft don't like my
countrymen in general. He's like his sons--English, bitter English, to
the marrow of his bones. Somehow, in spite of that, John Jago got round
him; maybe because John does certainly know his business. Oh yes!
Cattle and crops, John knows his business. Since he's been overlooker,
things have prospered as they didn't prosper in the time of the boys.
Ambrose owned as much to me himself. Still, sir, it's hard to be set
aside for a stranger; isn't it? John gives the orders now. The boys do
their work; but they have no voice in it when John and the old man put
their heads together over the business of the farm. I have been long in
telling you of it, sir, but now you know how the envy and the hatred
grew among the men before my time. Since I have been here, things seem
to get worse and worse. There's hardly a day goes by that hard words
don't pass between the boys and John, or the boys and their father. The
old man has an aggravating way, Mr. Lefrank--a nasty way, as we do call
it--of taking John Jago's part. Do speak to him about it when you get
the chance. The main blame of the quarrel between Silas and John the
other day lies at his door, as I think. I don't want to excuse Silas,
either. It was brutal of him--though he _is_ Ambrose's brother--to
strike John, who is the smaller and weaker man of the two. But it was
worse than brutal in John, sir, to out with his knife and try to stab
Silas. Oh, he did it! If Silas had not caught the knife in his hand
(his hand's awfully cut, I can tell you; I dressed it myself), it might
have ended, for anything I know, in murder--"

She stopped as the word passed her lips, looked back over her shoulder,
and started violently.

I looked where my companion was looking. The dark figure of a man was
standing, watching us, in the shadow of the elm-tree. I rose directly