it, an' kept
theirselves to theirselves. But they never really made any friends, as
you may say. If you looked in you were welcome, but you were never
asked to stop, an' they never called in to see t' neighbours. His
missis wasn't one o' t' gossipin' sort, an' 'e were away a good deal
wi' his cart; an' so we got into t' 'abit o' leavin' 'em alone.

"She must have been seventy--ay, more than seventy--when she died (I
believe it tells on t' stone, but I never took that much notice), an'
one or two o' t' neighbours did look in during t' time 'at she were
ill, an' did what they could for 'em both, and he were very grateful.
But he made no fuss, an' when they put her away 'e just wiped 'is
sleeve across 'is face, an' walked back an' started diggin' a trench in
t' garden.

"Well, it come out this mornin' 'at Barjona's bought t' cottage, an' it
appears he gave Ted notice to quit last week-end, an' his time 's up on
Saturda'. They say he's goin' to live there himself, an' I daresay
it's likely enough. It belonged to a young chap down i' Fawkshill, an'
Barjona has a 'old on him somehow, an' he's forced 'im to sell. I've
been to see t' chap just now, but Barjona has got it right enough,
deeds an' everything, an' law's law all the world over. Ted's fair
rooted in t' soil o' that land, but he'll 'ave to shift, an' quick too.
'E's as hard as nails, is Barjona, an' Ted 'll have to clear out on
Saturda'."

"But what a shame!" I remarked; "could not someone be induced to buy it
from Barjona? Perhaps he would sell at a profit."

"I'm goin' to see him in t' mornin'," replied Reuben, "but I durst bet
a five-pun note to a toothpick 'at he won't sell at any figure. I know
Barjona. There's good wheat i' all men, but it's so lost among t'
chaff i' Barjona's case 'at only t' Day o' Judgment 'll find it."

Reuben called the next day to report the fruitlessness of his mission.

"It's no use," he said, and for once the cheerful farmer had become
gloomy; "I haven't got a right hang o' t' words, but t' Owd Book says
summat, if I'm not mista'en, about ye can crush a man's 'ead up in a
mortar wi' a pestle, an' if he's a fool at t' start, he'll be a fool at
t' finish. Barjona says he's stalled o' livin' down yonder i' Maria's
house in t' Gap, an' he's set 'is 'eart on yon cottage o' Ted's ever
sin' he thought o' gettin' wed again. He's shut his teeth, an' ye
couldn't prize 'em open wi' a chisel an' hammer."

"Could the squire do an