He was a man of about fifty, with iron-grey hair and very blue eyes which looked keenly out under bushy brows. They were kindly eyes, but they were eyes which could fix themselves commandingly on man or beast, and seemed used to having their commands obeyed. They were set in a face so bronzed and reddened by an outdoor life, that this colour was all the more striking, except to old Sally, who spoke lightly of them compared to others she "minded" in the family. "They weren't nothing at all to what old Mr Solace's was," she said. "They _were_ blue, if you like." Biting the top of his quill pen, and stamping his foot, when the figures were too much for his patience, the farmer had just travelled nearly up a long column, when a loud knock was heard at his door. At first he only grunted impatiently, for he knew that if he let go his calculation for an instant, he was a lost man, and would have to add it all up again. But almost immediately the knock was loudly repeated. "Come in," he shouted, flinging down his pen and turning angrily towards the door. His gaze was directed to the height of a full-grown person, and he lowered it hastily to the level of Dennis's small round head, and said in a softer tone: "Oh, it's you, is it, my boy." Dennis marched straight in at once, and stood at the farmer's elbow. He was not a bit afraid of Mr Solace, and had prepared just what he meant to say, so he began without a pause. "I've come to ask you a favour, please." "And I wish you'd come at any other time," said Mr Solace good-naturedly; "but as you're here, out with it." Dennis's favours were usually connected with jackdaws, or rabbits, or puppies, and no doubt this would be something of the same kind. "It's a bigger one than ever I've asked before," continued Dennis, "and I want it more than anything I've wanted before." "Fire away!" said the farmer; "only make haste about it, because I'm busy." "I want you," said Dennis, speaking slowly and solemnly, as he drew up closer, "to let Tuvvy stop." The farmer's face changed. He gave a long low whistle. "Did he send you to ask me that?" he said. "No indeed," replied Dennis indignantly; "I thought of it my very own self. He's promised not to have any more bouts, if you'll keep him on." Mr Solace got up and stood with his elbow on the mantelpiece, looking down at Dennis. "Well, my boy," he said, "that's a thing I must say `No' to. I'm forced to, by Tuvvy himself. I don't want to send him away. I shan't get another such a clever chap in his place." "Then why do you?" asked Dennis. "Because I can't put up with him any longer; I've been too soft-hearted already. I've winked at his goings-on again and again, and I've let him off times out of number. But now my mind's made up." "But he's _promised_," urged Dennis, "and he's going to walk home the field-way, so as not to pass the Cross Keys. He says it's the red blind that draws him in."