Newbigging looked up from where he knelt.
"The men say that so long as they keep the horses and traps in fine order, Mr. Jerrold don't care a tinker's dam about anything else."
"Ay," said Gunn, sitting on his heels, "and Miss Jerrold has the gairdeners off their work half the time, plantin' daffydils in the woods, the way they grow wild in Scotland."
"The Jerrold's are gentry," said Mrs. Machin, "and you can't expect no better of them."
"I don't blame them," said Newbigging. "I like a place to look bonny, mysel'. Don't you call that a fine view over the sea, Mr. Vale?" He made a broad gesture of his hand that held a strawberry plant.
"They all talk about the sea," interrupted Mrs. Machin, "and they will have it there's a tide. I don't pay no heed to views or tides. I've never had no time for it."
"Jock!" shouted Gunn to the collie, "If ye'll no quit chasin' they seagulls, I'll sort ye."
The dog came bounding across the beds; the gulls rose, whimpering; two steamers, passing, saluted each other hoarsely. It was a jolly thing to be standing in the breeze on one's own land.
"Well, I'm off exploring," said Derek.
"Take a look at Chard's place. There's a farm in order. He's what I call a good man. He gets something out of every inch of his land."
"And gives no heed to bonny views," added Newbigging, slyly. Gunn and he chuckled and giggled, glad of any diversion from work.
In two hours Derek had inspected his apple, cherry, plum, and pear trees; his thimbleberry, raspberry, and blackberry canes; leaned over the pig-sty and held friendly
