And Hamer took his pipe out of his mouth and added--“It’s great!” and put it back again. “Yes, it’s great.” Dandy laughed and sighed. “So great that I’m not sure I’ll ever get round to the far side of it! It’s small and mean, too--does _every_body keep a pet charity chained like a dog to nobble new-comers? And those that don’t beg seem to be tied up in a pride as big as a bath-towel--that nice, cross agent-person, for instance, who looks rather like a high-class keeper, and nabobs you off his land like a reigning duke. _He_’ll never want to be kind to us, I’m sure, and we must have _some_body to pass the time of day with. Perhaps the house will decide. It turned a cold enough shoulder on the poor Halstedites; it owes us somebody in return. I hope it will send an interesting selection soon, though it seems queer to have to let a house choose your friends for you! I get on fairly well with the villagers, though they’re not exactly flattering. ‘Very pleased to meet you, miss, I’m sure! You mind me something surprising of her as was last school-teacher but two!’ That was the ‘Jeanne’ frock, mother, that Wiggie used to say looked like concrete moonshine, at Halsted. It looks like the fairy queen in a ballet, _here_. Even my sporting clothes are wrong--they sport too much. And I find I don’t know any of the things that matter--when the grass begins to grow, and which weather is coming up from the sea, and what to call it when it _has_ come. No, I don’t fit in. Perhaps I’ll learn, after a while.” Hamer Shaw said--“The land’ll teach you,” and leaned back and shut his eyes. He could hear milk-pails on the flags at the Parsonage Farm. “And love,” Mrs. Shaw added, very unexpectedly, “7 lacets, 7 tr., 9 ch., turn--don’t forget to look at the rods!” “The land--and love.” Dandy said no more, knowing nothing of either. On the fell opposite a floating wreath of mist was lifting delicately upward like a lawn kerchief drawn from a sleeping face. “The land--and love.” Great Masters. But the land, as yet, would have none of her, and love might never look her way. She could win the one if she chose to woo it; the other and greater must come unasked. “Mais, cher dieu, de la tendre et divine épouvante, Amour, que feraient-ils si vous ne veniez pas?” CHAPTER VII THE TROUBLE COMING.--THE GREEN GATES OF VISION: II. MORNING “Afraid I’ve got to worry you a bit!” Bluecaster began apologetically in his slow, shy voice. He was big and broad-shouldered, with a manner toiling anxiously to meet your approval, and never quite sure of getting there. Yet there was the charm of breeding in his diffident speech and pleasant smile, and under all his patient horror of responsibility was a real desire to do “the decent thing.” He looked at his agent much as a conscientious hound looks at a kind and skilful but strict whip. If you were fond of dogs, you reached out your hand and patted him when nobody was looking, and he licked your hand in return.