“But I am,” said the Parson, trenchantly. “It’s a bed of nettles.” Lionel spent some time and eloquence in describing what “other fellows” had done in India. With a little “pull” one could get excellent billets, managerships of tea and rubber plantations, married men preferred. The Parson raised a cynical pair of eyebrows. “Have you any qualifications, special knowledge of tea or rubber?” “He could learn,” pleaded Joyce. “At another man’s expense?” Lionel winced and said no more. The possibilities of advancement in his profession had been already dismissed as negligible. The Parson spoke less austerely: “Forgive me, my boy, for putting these questions. I don’t doubt either your courage or goodwill. Joyce is worth fighting for. Now, let us suppose that your father surrenders, what then?” His keen eyes flashed an unmistakable challenge. Lionel answered eagerly: “I want to live here, as my father’s agent. I have everything to learn about the land, but I mean to learn—I can learn. This big property must be made to pay. Hard work, but it’s work I shall love.” To the Parson’s amazement, he went on to speak of grievances to be redressed, of schemes for the bettering of rural conditions, of a more scientific method of farming. This, as we know, was undiluted Moxon. When interrogated, Lionel frankly admitted as much. Joyce, echoing Moxon, had fired him. As he warmed to his theme, he noticed that the Parson’s thoughts seemed to wander. Had he followed those thoughts he, too, might have been amazed. For Hamlin, smarting beneath a sharp disappointment, had wondered why such a man as Moxon had come into Joyce’s life merely to drift out of it. Now that question was answered. When Lionel finished, he said simply: “Good. If you realise the work to be done all is well. But some of you country gentlemen, with no training other than that of the Public Schools and Services, seem to think that you can manage big estates efficiently without training; and you arrogate to yourselves powers almost of life and death over your people. That is a monstrous vanity. This blind belief in yourselves will undo you. Why should your so-called rights be used to inflict wrongs upon others? However, light seems to have come to you. Follow it! I’ll ask one more question. The application of scientific methods to such farming as is done here means a large outlay. Have you thought of that?” “Yes,” said Lionel, eagerly. “With my consent, father and I could sell some heirlooms.” The Parsons eyes and voice softened. “What? You, a Pomfret, would make that great sacrifice?” “Gladly.” “Then I sanction your engagement to Joyce. You will have to win your wife with hard work of mind and body. Personally, I believe you can do.” He grasped Lionel’s hand with so convincing a grip that the young man winced. Then he went to bed, leaving Joyce and Lionel together. * * * * * CHAPTER XVII