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“To no small degree because you neglected to keep your drains and ditches clear,” Hector told him. “Apart from that, you, like the other low-lying farms, have benefited from the general drainage works I’ve put in hand at my own expense. The only difference is that while the other farmers have made the most of it by keeping their own drainage in good condition, you haven’t. If we have a lot of rain this autumn and winter, you’ll be in just the same trouble again. Or rather, you would have if you were there. But you won’t be!”

“It’s not fair!” Bradley was almost snivelling now. “I’ve had three bad harvests in succession and that’s meant I couldn’t afford to bring up my stock with good animals—”

“You’ve had bad harvests because you haven’t enriched the land as you should have done,” Hector told him inexorably. “And that despite the fact that I offered you the same low terms for fertiliser that I’d bought in bulk—and which my other tenants were only too glad to accept.”

“I couldn’t afford—” Bradley whined.

“Probably not,” Hector agreed, and brought his fist down with a bang on the desk. “Don’t you see, Bradley, it’s a vicious circle. You can’t afford fertiliser at any price because almost ever since you took the farm over it’s barely been paying its way. And this year it’s going to be worse. I doubt if you’ll even break even. It can’t go on, man, it can’t go on! You’ve tom the life out of the place because you’re lazy and a bad farmer. Can’t you see that it won’t do you any good to stay on?”

“But what shall I do?” Bradley wailed. “Take to the road? Your name will be mud hereabouts if you force us to do that—”

Meg held her breath. There was something in that, she knew. Probably Bradley wasn’t popular with other, hardworking farmers, but all the same—

For an appreciable time Hector didn’t reply and Meg wondered if he was going to relent. But evidently nothing was further from his mind.

"You’ve got five children, haven’t you?”

“How many kids I’ve got is no business of yours,” Bradley defended himself sulkily.

“No, it isn’t,” Hector agreed. “But it’s very much
your
business. You and your wife brought them into the world and it’s up to you to provide decently for them. And that’s something that only hard work will achieve. And you’re not a hard worker. You’re lazy, careless and incompetent—in fact, not the sort of man who is suited to being his own master. And don’t tell me that you’re not your own master because you’re my tenant. You know as well as I do that I give my tenants a very free hand and that I only interfere when it’s absolutely necessary. What you probably don’t realise is that I very much prefer not to have to interfere—in fact, it’s a confounded nuisance! ”

Again there was a pause. Then Bradley muttered something which Meg couldn’t hear, but from what followed, it was evident that he had tried to put some of the blame on his wife.

“She
is
your wife,” Hector said sternly. “And whatever her faults may be are again no business of mine. But I’ll tell you one thing, Bradley, whatever she may be is in no small degree due to
you.
What sort of example have you ever set her? What encouragement have you ever given her? You know the answer to that better than I do, but any onlooker can see enough to know that what I’ve said is true.” There was the sound of his chair being pushed back. “That’s all there is to be said, Bradley. You’ll be hearing from my solicitor—” The other chair was roughly pushed back.

“So you’re really going through with it?” Bradley said bitterly. “All you care about is to make a profit out of me, and if you don’t, then you don’t care a damn what happens to me and mine!”

“Bradley, over the years I’ve warned you repeatedly,” Hector told him inexorably. “I’ve made allowances for you which no other of my tenants has ever asked for or needed. Now we’ve come to the end of the road. You will be out of Woodvale Farm in a month’s time. And that’s all I have to say to you. Now, clear out! ”

There was the sound of the door to the hall opening and closing. Then silence. Meg, who had been sitting in petrified silence during the interview, tried to get on with her work, but it was impossible. What she had heard had shocked and sickened her. Whatever excuses Hector might make there was a ruthless brutality in the way he had dealt with Bradley which nothing could justify. Her hands, lying idle on her lap, clenched in impotent fury. She had deluded herself into thinking that Hector was not the harsh autocrat she had at first judged him to be. She had let herself be blinded because of the surging emotion he had stirred in her. But now she knew that her first impressions had been the right ones. He was a despicable bully who positively enjoyed the power his position gave him—

“Struck a snag?”

Hector had come into her room without her hearing him and involuntarily she gave a little scream.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” Hector asked lightly. “Show me what’s bothering you.”

“I—I—” Meg began incoherently, and jumped to her feet to face him defiantly.

Hector regarded her tense, working face in silence for a moment. Then he said quietly:

“There’s something really wrong, isn’t there, Meg? You’d better tell me what it is.”

“It’s
you,"
Meg told him hysterically. “You—and the way you treated that poor man! ”

“Meaning Bradley?” Hector asked expressionlessly, his eyes narrowing as they raked her face mercilessly. “He hardly deserves your pity, my dear, as you must know, since I presume you overheard all that both he and I said. Bradley has brought this on himself, as he very well knows, and consequently—”

“Oh, I know!” Meg declared recklessly. “Consequently that justifies you in being an inconsiderate brute.”

She paused, because Hector’s face had lost something of its usually healthy colour and his nostrils flared ominously. It was rather frightening—

“Go on,” he ordered, but in so quiet a voice that it was clear what an iron restraint he was imposing on himself. “You’d better get it all off your chest while you’re at it.”

“Oh, what’s the use?” Meg flung at him impatiently. “You’ve made up your mind. There’s nothing more to be said because, of course, you’re always right, aren’t you?”

“I’d hardly claim that,” Hector said with deceptive mildness. “But sometimes, yes. And this is one of those times—can’t you see that, Meg?”

‘“No, I can’t,” she declared passionately. “I don’t care how bad a farmer he is, it would be wrong—wicked— to make his children pay for his faults! ”

“But who is responsible for that?” Hector demanded sternly. “Whose children are they?”

Meg’s shoulders moved uneasily.

“Oh, I know—he’s one of the weak ones! But you’re one of the strong ones—”

“And therefore I must shoulder another man’s burdens and so deprive him of yet another opportunity of proving his manhood?” Hector asked, and shook his head. “No, Meg, that’s the last thing I’ll do. In fact, the only thing for which I blame myself over this whole wretched business is that I didn’t take this stand earlier. I should have done—for everybody’s sake.”

‘You mean that for the children’s sake you should have turned him out earlier?” Meg asked scornfully. “You’ll be telling yourself next that actually you’re their guardian angel!”

Hector didn’t reply immediately, but a little muscle flicked at the comer of his mouth. Then in a voice as brittle and cold as ice he said :

“
I’ve had enough of this!
You’ve gone too far, Meg! Now—can you ride?”

His concluding words seemed so out of context that Meg stared at him uncomprehendingly, and impatiently Hector repeated his question.

“You mean—can I ride a horse?” she asked dubiously. And when he nodded: “Well, I haven’t ridden for some years, but I have been properly taught.”

“Then you’ll manage all right,” Hector told her coolly. “Go and change into suitable clothes for riding.”

“But—” Meg protested.

“There’s no ‘but’,” Hector told her grimly. “I’ve told you before, Meg, that you’re inclined to let sentiment run away with you. Now you’ve taken that to excess. You’ve been pleased to sit in judgment on me with insufficient knowledge of the circumstances. That I refuse to tolerate. I’m going to see to it that you have the evidence of your eyes. Then you’ll be in a position to judge whether I’ve been—what was it—an inconsiderate brute or whether I’ve been all but criminally lenient. Which I imagine you would prefer! Now —please hurry!” '

He was dismissing her as firmly as he had Bradley, and Meg found it just as impossible to stand out against him as the farmer had done. She hurried back to the flat and changed quickly into slacks and a sweater. She put on low-heeled walking shoes and then went down to the courtyard and took her string-palmed driving gloves out of her car. At that moment Hector joined her and with a crisp : “This way!” led the way from the courtyard to the stables.

Two horses were already saddled and waiting for them in the cobbled yard, and Meg, supremely conscious of the watching eyes of both Hector and the stable hand, contrived to make a creditable job of mounting without assistance. There was a brief pause while the stirrups were adjusted for her under Hector’s supervision. Then he swung himself up and led the way out of the yard.

Meg had always enjoyed riding and despite the present circumstances she was conscious of a feeling of exhilaration as they ambled gently along the lane. But she had no intention of saying so, for Hector, grimfaced and watchful, remained silent, and Meg was certainly not going to be the one to speak first. Suddenly Hector broke the silence.

“Feel up to trotting?” he asked curtly.

“Yes,” Meg said as briefly, and thrilled again as they increased speed.

After a while Hector spoke again.

“You don’t ride too badly,” he informed her critically. “But you’re inclined to be a bit on the bossy side. Leave a bit more to your horse—he’s too well trained to need constantly to be reminded that you’re in command.”

That from Hector who never let anyone forget that he was in command! A hot retort trembled on her lips but got no further. Instead, she said meekly—too meekly:

“I’ll try to mend my ways.”

That produced a further spell of silence on Hector’s part, and inwardly Meg seethed. So he didn’t really think much of her riding abilities, the patronising pig! Well, she’d show him—Surreptitiously she touched the horse’s flanks with her heels and was rewarded with an instant response. Gradually she drew ahead of Hector, who neither commented nor attempted to catch her up. It was over half a mile farther on before she heard him shout:

“Hi! Where are you off to?”

Instantly she checked.

“I don’t know!” she threw over her shoulder. “You were the one who—” She stopped short. Hector had caught her up now and she saw a quick glint of triumph in his eyes. Too^ late she realised she had overplayed her hand!

“Who knew what our destination was to be?” he asked softly. “So it was—but I thought perhaps you had other ideas. You see, you’ve gone quite a distance past the turning we should have taken.
I
will lead now, if you please!”

There was nothing Meg could do but to follow him as he wheeled and led the way back along the road they had already taken, almost to the point where she had first got ahead of him. He turned down a narrow lane which she had not even noticed before. At the end of it were farm gates, closed but only latched. Hector bent over and released the catch. Then he led the way into the farmyard, dismounted and tethered his horse. Meg swung down and did the same. Then she had time to look around her. Well, if this was Woodvale Farm, she couldn’t see what Hector was worrying about! The whole place was as neat as a new pin. Paint was fresh, fences were in good repair, there was a gay cottage garden—if the rest of the farm was like this—!

He must have read her thoughts, for he shook his head.

“No, this isn’t Woodvale. This is Broadmead Farm. The tenant’s name is Chapman.”

“But I thought—” Meg began.

“That I wanted you to see for yourself just how derelict Woodvale Farm is?” Really, he was too good at guessing what she was thinking! “So I do—but I want you to know what a decently run farm is like so that you can make a comparison. The two of them are about the same acreage, though Woodvale has slightly the better soil. On the other hand, the Chapmans’ four children are all of school age whereas the Bradleys’ twins are only about eighteen months old and consequently at home, though the other three go to school.”

With that, Hector led the way to the back door. As he opened the door they were greeted by the delicious smell of newly baked bread and a moment later by the women who stood kneading dough at the kitchen table.

Meg took to her instantly. She was plump in a comfortable sort of way which suggested good nature rather than indulgence. Her working dress was covered with an immaculate white apron and her hair was smooth and shining. But it was her face which Meg found most attractive. She wasn’t particularly pretty. In fact, her features were quite ordinary, but it didn’t take much insight to realise that here was a good-tempered woman who enjoyed life. You could see it in the little laughter lines round her eyes and mouth, and though her chin looked as if it could set determinedly when necessary, her lips seemed to curve naturally into a smile.

She was smiling now as Hector came in, though she didn’t stop her kneading. She was completely at her ease and Meg was surprised to see that her eyes were twinkling mischievously.

“Well now, what a one you are for knowing when I’m bread-baking, Sir Hector!” she twitted him, the smile deepening. “And this not my usual day, either!”

“Where your bread is concerned, I’ve got second sight, Bessie!” Hector declared. “Meg, this is Mrs Chapman. She makes the best bread—and butter, for that matter—for miles around. Bessie, Miss Ainslie and her aunt are staying with Mrs Laidlaw for a while and Miss Ainslie is helping me with my office work.”

“You’re welcome, I’m sure, miss,” Mrs Chapman said pleasantly. “It’s time Sir Hector had a bit of help—he works far too hard for his own good as a rule.”