“Stow all that piffle! You’re as safe as houses, and you know it. It’s Thorne I’d be out to rattle; I’d make no difference to _you_. And in any case I’m not doing it. You’ll only set Stubbs agitating. I wish you’d chuck it!” But as she went slowly back up the path, the stray-flung idea settled and took root. It was absurd, of course, and she was much too young, too insignificant, and--only a woman; but after all she was doing a man’s job in a man’s place, and doing it well. She had earned respect in her own line--there was no doubt about that--and she’d as good a head-piece as most of the old buffers on the Board, thank the powers! It would be a fine old crow over the Creeping Jesus if she bagged his post. Might be a help in business as well, now she came to think of it. She was bred to it, too, as Stubbs had said. A certain knowledge of Poor Law and County management comes the way of most country people, but Harriet, brought up by her grandfather, had breathed it in with her native air. She could still cite many a point of importance which he had made familiar, repeat stories of difficulties triumphantly solved. She loved it, too; all the machinery and the ceremony and the cracking of nuts with Nasmyth hammers. Association and instinct alike made the dull things dear and vivid. There are few stronger claims in certain families than this obligation of service, passing from one generation to another. On the backs of its often inadequate but willing gentry the agricultural county moves forward, exorbitant with them because it has bred them, exacting more of them with each succeeding year, and only they know what it gives them in return. Titles--silver--illuminated addresses--a squad of police to walk before their coffin--a portrait to hang behind their empty chair--these make their testimony; but the real guerdon is surely immeasurably different and beyond. Later, in her own room, the deeper reason--the woman’s reason--spoke for itself. Dandy had said: “We shall all be proud of you.” “All?” Would _he_ care if she went in to fight and came out victorious, honour her because honour had come her way? The suggestion had amused him; he had not taken it seriously, but it had roused him to new interest in her, nevertheless. She had thrilled at his homage to her grandfather; _that_ had been serious and genuine, without question, and the reflection, if pale, had yet been hers. The possible venture would surely bring her a little nearer! She would share some measure of his work, lay her hand to it beside his, join in the common endeavour. Thorne and the milk-insult were forgotten. The woman’s reason, the woman’s hope, urged her forward. Lighting a candle, she slipped silently down to the sitting-room, and drew out one of her grandfather’s books. CHAPTER XVII THE GREEN GATES OF VISION:--IV. DARK--THE LONELY PLOUGH In the road, Dandy came to halt, dismayed.