"I'm sure I don't grudge them some ale," said Mrs Estcourt. "But they are really very unreasonable. One of the servants took a mower a quart of beer. He said he did not like it, and didn't want so much, and poured it out on the grass. Next day only a pint was sent to him: `Why y'ent you brought me a quart?' said he. `Because you flung it away,' was the reply. `Aw, that don't matter. You bring I a quart. I'll have my mishure,' [measure]; nor should I mind paying the extra five shillings; but you see, Felix, if I pay it, all the farmers round--for they have only struck work on my place, thinking, no doubt, that, being a woman, I must give way--will be obliged to do so, and some of them are not able. Many have called and begged me not; and Mr Thorpe says the same. Yet I don't like it. We have always been on good terms with the men." "O yes, you pets 'em up," said Augustus, "just like so many children; and, of course, they ain't going to work for you." "The struggle of capital and labour," began Felix learnedly, when a sudden jolt of the springless waggon threw him off his balance, and he had to cling to the sides. "O, mind the gatepost!" cried Mrs Estcourt, in some alarm. While they were near the house Jabez went slow; but the moment he reached the open field away he started, and what with the jingling of the harness, the creaking of the wheels, and the necessity for holding on tight, conversation became impossible. The waggon rose up and sloped down over the furrows of the meadow as a boat pitches in a sea. "Woaght! whoa!" shouted Jabez, drawing up among the hay. "This be it; the prongs be in the ditch." When they had descended, he went to the hawthorn bush, pulled out some prongs, and then scrambled up into the waggon himself. "Now then, you lards and gennelmen, one on 'ee get each side, and pitch up thaay wakes [ridges of hay put ready for the purpose of loading], and mind as you doan't stick your farks into I. The wimmen--I means the ladies--wull rake behind, and paason can help um--th' rakes be hung on th' hedge. Now, bailie, look arter them 'osses." Though hay looks light and easy to lift, yet when the fork has gathered a goodly bundle, to hoist it high overhead, and continue the operation, is really heavy labour. Valentine was physically a smaller made man than Geoffrey, whose broad shoulders had also been developed both by athletic exercise at home and by work in Australia--work done from choice, not necessity. But though smaller, Valentine was extremely tough, wiry, and nimble, as is often the case with gentlemen who "fancy" horses. Quick in his movements, he caught the knack of "pitching" almost immediately. He hastily flung up his "wake" as far as the horse in the shafts, and then walked to the rear of the waggon where Margaret was raking, leaving Geoffrey still engaged.