their fancy milkin'. Them Jerrolds make me sick. I can tell you, your uncle had no use for him."
"Why?"
"Well, fur one thing he pays higher wages than anyone hereabouts can afford, and that makes it hard fur the farmers to get good help. Then, when he first come here, he asked old Mr. Vale's advice about his small fruit, and your uncle went over and advised him just what to do and when to do it. But after a couple o' seasons' worry with pickers my fine gentleman flew in a temper and had it all ploughed under and swore he wouldn't have a berry on the place. Your uncle had no respect fur him after that. . . . . Phœbe! have ye naught to do but stand gapin' at them ninnys goin' by? Get back to your churn, and be quick about it."
Tiers of seats were raised about the auctioneer's stand for the accommodation of the crowd. These were well filled when Derek and Windmill arrived, so they had to be content with places at the back. From there they looked down over a lively scene. Horses and vehicles of all sorts were tied to trees and fences on the outskirts of the crowd; late comers were hurrying to secure what positions they could; Hobbs was shouting orders to stablemen who were already leading out the heavy, slow-moving animals; the auctioneer and his assistant were consulting over a list. Mr. Jerrold sat on his grey horse near the stand, an expression of mingled pride and amusement on his face.
The auctioneer was loquacious, animated; he punctuated the sales by racy anecdotes; the prices paid filled Derek with surprise. More and more as the afternoon wore on he longed to possess one of these peerless, soft-eyed creatures as the foundation of a new and lucrative herd. Windmill continually urged him to buy, saying that he only wished
