Part 1 — CHAPTER IV CONCERNING PIGS

A marked silence followed her departure, and when it had lasted several seconds Bobby got up and began with rather fluttering movements to put the fire together.

Silas got up also, his great figure towering above her.

"That's all right, Miss Roberta," he said. "Don't you get worried over nothing!"

She laid down the poker and straightened herself. There were tiny lines about her eyes and mouth which only showed when she was troubled.

"It's very nice of you to say that," she said. "But it isn't all right. The child gets more unruly and out of hand every day. It's no good my apologizing on her behalf, for she always does it again."

A faint smile showed through the grimness of Silas's face. "You haven't whipped her enough," he said.

"Oh, but I have!" protested Bobby, her mouth quivering a little. "I used to have a theory that if you kept a child in hand from the very earliest it would never get beyond you. And I have been very strict with her always. But—I seem to have failed somehow. I suppose it is the fashion for girls of the present day to behave like spoilt children."

"They are spoilt children, most of 'em," said Silas. "And they ought to be treated as such." He spoke dogmatically. "You mustn't let her defy you, you know."

"I really don't know what to do," sighed the older generation. "Punishments never have any effect. I am afraid only responsibility will ever bring her wisdom. I suppose we were the same when we were young."

"Except that we grew up sooner," said Silas. "But you needn't talk about when you were young. You don't look more than five years older than she is."

She laughed, and again slightly coloured. Her fair skin was wont to betray her thus in moments of embarrassment. As a girl she had battled furiously against this habit which she had regarded as contemptible but which had very completely mastered her in earlier days none the less.

She turned aside and changed the subject quickly, as had been her invariable remedy in her effort to overcome it.

"Well, what about the pigs?" she said, and then, realizing her blunder, turned quite crimson and laughed. "Do forgive me! You'll think I have pigs on the brain."

He smiled openly, and in a moment his sombre countenance was completely transformed. There was something about Silas's smile which somehow did not seem to belong to his type. Mary always said that anyone could see he was a born gentleman when he smiled. Perhaps it was that smile of his, rare as it was, which had made Bobby regard him as a friend rather than a mere neighbour of the farmer class.

"No, I don't think you have pigs on the brain, Miss Roberta," he said, "but at the present moment, I have. I got your message from Peter, and I've come up to tell you that there's no need for you to employ a man like Everett to sell them for you. I'll sell 'em myself with pleasure, if you'll trust me to that extent."

"How like you!" said Bobby. "Of course I would gladly trust them to you, but you are so kind that I don't like to be always taking advantage of it."

"Why not?" said Silas.

She faced him with absolute sincerity. "You won't take payment for it," she said, "and—I don't like taking things for which I can't pay."

"Not even from friends?" said Silas, his dark eyes freely meeting hers.

"Not from anyone," said Bobby firmly.

"Oh!" said Silas. "And—don't you ever give things to anyone yourself?"

"That is quite different," she said.

"And do they throw it back at you because you won't let 'em pay?" proceeded Silas with rather stolid persistence.

"That is different," she said again, countering him with his own weapon.

He abandoned the brief contest with startling abruptness. "Well, you can pay me if you like," he said. "I'll undertake to do you better than Everett will even then."

"But—but why should you?" said Bobby, disconcerted.

"Why shouldn't I?" said Silas, and again his smile was apparent. "You are my tenant here. It's all to my interest that you should make a success of things."

She shook her head. "Mr. Hickory, I am very sorry, but I don't think that is your real reason."

"But we're not talking about reasons, are we?" said Silas. "We're talking about pigs, and who is going to sell 'em."

She laughed, and something that had been rather like distress vanished from her demeanour as she did so. "I'm afraid it's no good," she said. "It's all fixed up now."

"It can be unfixed," said Silas.

"No, it can't. I shouldn't like to upset Mr. Everett."

"Damn Everett!" said Silas. "I'd upset him every day of the week if I got the chance."

"How very vindictive!" said Bobby.

"Well, but you know the man is a sodden brute that's sure to swindle you if he can, so why give him the opportunity?" argued Silas, not without heat.

She made a small gesture of appeal. "Please don't be so severe! I must paddle my own canoe, you know. I am really not doing too badly on the whole."

"Women are all alike," said Silas.

"So are men," said Bobby with a funny little smile, "when they want something they can't get. That sounds ungrateful, I am afraid," she added apologetically, "but I've got to hold my own somehow. It isn't that I think my way is always the best; only I have got to take it, that's all."

"And make a mess of things!" said Silas.

She nodded. "And make a mess of things. Anyhow, I do come to you for advice about the pigs, even if I am pigheaded about selling them."

"You haven't done even that lately," said Silas.

"Because I haven't needed it just lately," said Bobby courageously.

"Is that the real reason?" said Silas.

She laughed, her gay laugh that was like Rosemary's, only sweeter. "But we're not talking about reasons, are we?" she said. "We're talking about pigs."

"And you won't accept my help over them?" said Silas.

"Not this time, thank you," she said.

"All right." Silas became determined again. "I shall keep an eye on them all the same and see that you're not swindled."

She raised her hands comically. "Oh, please don't! It will be more trouble than if you sold them for me yourself."

"Much more trouble," said Silas.

"Aren't you difficult?" she said with a sigh.

"I suppose I can do what I like," he said rather aggressively.

"Oh, of course!" she agreed. "I am sure you always do."

"I don't, then," said Silas. "There are lots of things I should like to do that I can't."

"That's life, isn't it?" said Bobby.

He turned upon her. "If you're going to tell me that I can't always have what I want, I'm going!" he said. "It'll be the third time that I've been told it in the last half-hour."

"Oh, what a shame!" laughed Bobby. "No wonder you are feeling aggrieved! No, I shouldn't dream of saying that to you, Mr. Hickory. I shouldn't dare in the first place."

"You—wouldn't dare?" he said, his voice suddenly sunk very low.

"I leave all the daring to Rosemary," she said lightly. "I am sure she was one of the brave people who said that to you. And the other—let me see, the other—must have been Peter."

"It was," said Silas. "But you—Miss Roberta, surely you always say what you like!"

"No. I stop first, as a rule, and count the cost." She spoke with a quaint, half-pleading humour. "It really is safer, you know. One has less to regret in the long run."

"It will never cost you anything to say what you like to me," said Silas.

She threw him a little smile. "Thank you. That is kind. Now do you know I think I ought to run back to my sister as she has been alone nearly all day, and that is so depressing for an invalid. You will understand, won't you, and excuse me?"

"There's no excuse necessary," said Silas rather gloomily. "I always understand."

"I suppose I can't offer you anything?" she said. "You have had tea?"

"Yes, thanks. I'm sorry your sister is ill." He picked up his mackintosh and began to put it on. "I can't hope to see you again for a long time, then?"

"Oh, I expect so," said Bobby, with pleasant vagueness. "It was very good of you to come."

He faced her squarely. "When may I come again?"

A sudden burst of song from outside the window, which was not quite closed, startled them both.

"This year, next year, some time, never!" chanted a merry voice.

Bobby made a sharp movement and coloured again all over her fair face. Silas turned abruptly to the window and pulled up the blind. There came a peal of laughter and the sound of retreating feet, leaving only the patter of the rain beating upon the panes.

Silas fastened the window, pulled down the blind and readjusted the curtain with care.

Then he turned round again to Miss Roberta. "Good-bye!" he said rather curtly.

"Please forgive her!" said Bobby, holding out a hand that seemed to plead. "She is very young and headstrong, but she has a very loving heart."

"It's none of my business," said Silas bluntly. "I don't care what she does or is so long as she keeps out of my way."

"I am afraid it is you who will have to keep out of hers," said Bobby, shaking her head.

"That," said Silas, his voice suddenly so quiet that it sounded ominous, "I shall never do." He let her hand go with the words. "Not, that is, so long as she remains anywhere near you. Good-bye! I'll see that Everett gets you a decent price for the pigs. Nothing else I can do?"

"Nothing, thank you," said Bobby. "Not even that, I hope, if it's a great nuisance."

"It won't be," said Silas, going out. "And I'll drop in and let you know about it. Good-bye!"

He was gone. She left him to let himself out and remained standing before the fire with an expression half-whimsical and half-sad on her delicate face.

There was no stopping him. His tactics were of the steamroller type that might be eluded for a time but not permanently checked. She had known for a long while that she was powerless in that respect. Sooner or later, Silas Hickory would hem her in and make his solemn bid for the future. Quite in vain of course! She had no more intention of marrying him than he had of marrying Rosemary. But all the same she liked him, and his honest devotion touched her. Bobby was one of those who, being sensitive themselves, shrink almost morbidly from the prospect of inflicting pain. Perhaps this was the reason that her efforts at avoidance had not so far been conspicuously successful.

"I suppose I am not rude enough," she said with a sigh. "If I could only behave like Rosemary——"

But at this thought she stiffened. Rosemary had behaved atrociously, even more so than usual. Her open rudeness to Silas was becoming intolerable. It must be checked somehow, and it was for her to check it.

She straightened herself with a little jerk of determination. If she could not check Silas, at least she would not be overridden by Rosemary! Child of her heart as she was, she must not—and would not—allow her to grow completely beyond her control. At Little Staple there was so much to do and to think of that perhaps she had not given sufficient attention to Rosemary of late, and so she had begun to get out of hand.

"And she used to be so docile," she said to herself with a sigh. "Well, well, I shall have to be firm."

Meantime, there was the invalid awaiting her ministrations upstairs and she really must not neglect her any longer. She gathered up her energies with a conscious effort and thrusting Silas from her mind, she went about her task.