"You see, I thought the land was richer than it has turned out to be, and the furze roots have kept sprouting year after year, and that has meant ploughing the fields afresh. And the amount of manure I have had to put in has handicapped me terribly. But I have kept hoping to get into smooth waters by and by. The farm is looking better now than ever it did before." "But the ground rent, father, is an outrage. Did you really understand how much you were paying?" "He wouldn't consent to any less," David said wistfully. "You see things were good with farmers at the time, and rents were going up. And then I thought I should be allowed to work the quarry down in the delf, and make some money out of the stone." "And you were done in that as in other things?" "Well, yes. There's no denying it. When I got to understand the deed--and it took me a goodish time to riddle it out--I found out that I had no right to the stone or the mineral, or the fish in the stream, or to the trees, or to the game. Do you know he actually charged me for the stone dug out of my own farm to build the house with?" "And ever since has been working the quarry at a big profit, which would never have been unearthed but for you, and destroying one of your fields in the process?" "I felt that about the quarry almost more than anything," David went on. "But he's never discovered the tin lode, and I shall never tell him." "Is there a tin lode on the farm?" Ralph questioned eagerly. "Ay, a beauty! It must be seven years ago since I discovered it, and I've kept it to myself. You see, it would ruin the farm to work it, and I should not get a penny of the dues; they'd all go to the squire." "Everything gets back to the rich in the long-run," Ralph said bitterly. "There's no chance for the poor man anywhere." "Oh, well, in a few years' time it won't matter to any of us," David said, looking with dreamy eyes across the valley to the distant range of hills. "In the grave we shall all be equal, and we shall never hear again the voice of the oppressor." "That does not seem to me anything to the point," Ralph said, flashing out the words angrily. "We've got as good a right to live as anybody else. I don't ask favours from anybody, but I do want justice and fair play." "It's difficult to know what justice is in this world," David said moodily. "But there, I've been idling long enough. It's time I went back and fetched my hoe and did a bit of work." And he turned slowly on his heel and walked away toward the house. Ralph straightened his back and looked after him, and as he did so the moisture came into his eyes. "Poor old father!" he said to himself, with a sigh. "He's feeling this much more deeply than anyone knows. I do hope for all our sakes that Julian Seccombe will recover."