ed "It's
enough to make a man turn Socialist to listen to un."
"Mr. Crockford," Jane said, "I am a Socialist and if you take the
trouble to understand even the rudiments of socialism, you will learn
that the drones have as small a part in that scheme of life as in any
other. You have a right to what you produce. It is one of the
pleasures of my life to help the deserving to enjoy what they produce.
It is also one of the duties, when I find a non-productive person
filling a position to which his daily life and character do not entitle
him, to pull him up like a weed. That is my idea of socialism, Mr.
Crockford. You will leave on March 25th."
They rode homeward into a gathering storm. A mass of black clouds was
rolling up from the north, and an unexpected wind came bellowing down
the coombs, bending the stunted oaks and dark pines and filling the air
with sonorous but ominous music. The hills around soon became
invisible, blotted out by fragments of the gathering mists. The cold
sleet stung their faces. Out on the moors was no sound but time
tinkling of distant sheep bells.
"There's snow coming," Segerson muttered, as he turned up his coat
collar.
"It won't do any harm," she answered. "The earth lies warm under it."
The lights of Parracombe, precipitous and unexpected, were like flecks
in the sky, wiped out by a sudden driving storm of sleet. A little
while later they cantered up the avenue to Woolhanger and Jane slipped
from her horse with a little sigh of relief.
"You'd better stay and have some tea, Mr. Segerson," she invited.
"John will take your horse and give him a rubdown."
She changed her habit and, forgetting her guest, indulged in the luxury
of a hot bath. She descended some time later to find him sitting in
front of the tea tray in the hall. A more than usually gracious smile
soon drove the frown from his forehead.
"I really am frightfully sorry," she apologised, as she handed him his
tea. "I had no idea I was so wet. You'll have rather a bad ride home."
"Oh, I'm used to it," he answered. "I'm afraid they'll lose a good many
sheep on the higher farms, though, if the storm turns out as bad as it
threatens. Hear that!"
A tornado of wind seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet. Jane
shivered.
"I suppose," she reflected, "that man Crockford thought I was very cruel
to-day."
"I will tell you Crockford's point of view," Segerson replied. "He
doesn't exactly understand what your aims
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