“Why, I will tell you what I have been thinking,” said their father. “I have thought long and carefully, and I believe I have made up my mind to send for Harry, to come and work for us as he used to do. We have not labour enough on the ground. Two stout men to the acre is the smallest allowance for trying what could be made of the place.” “That is what Taylor and Brown are employing now on the best part of their land,” said Allan; “that is, when they can get the labour. There is such difference between that and one man to four or five acres, as there was before, that they can’t always get the labour.” “Just so; and therefore,” continued Woodruffe, “I am thinking of sending for Harry. Our old neighbourhood was not prosperous when we left it, and I fancy it cannot have improved since; and Harry might be glad to follow his master to a thriving neighbourhood; and he is such a careful fellow that I dare say he has money for the journey,—even if he has a wife by this time, as I suppose he has.” Moss looked most pleased, where all were pleased, at the idea of seeing Harry again. His remembrance of Harry was of a tall young man, who used to carry him on his shoulders, and wheel him in the empty water-barrel, and sometimes offer to dip him in it when it was full, and show him how to dig in the sand-heap with his little wooden spade. “Your rent, to be sure, is much lower than in the old place,” observed Abby. “Why, we must not build upon that,” replied the father; “rent is rising here, and will rise. My landlord was considerate in lowering mine to 3_l._ per acre, when he saw how impossible it was to make it answer; and he says he shall not ask more yet, on account of the labour I laid out at the time of the drainage. But when I have partly repaid myself, the rent will rise to 5_l._; and, in fact, I have made my calculations, in regard to Harry’s coming, at a higher rent than that.” “Higher than that?” “Yes: I should not be surprised if I found myself paying, as market-gardeners near London do, ten pounds per acre, before I die.” “Or rather, to let the ground to me, for that, father,” said Allan, “when it is your own property, and you are tired of work, and disposed to turn it over to me. I will pay you ten pounds per acre then, and let you have all the cabbages you can eat, besides. It is capital land, and that is the truth. Come—shall that be a bargain?”