"Iss, my dear," she said, in her sweet and placid tones, tones which denied the possibility of ill-feeling on either side. "That is the way of it ’ere. You ’aven’t worked a farm and wouldn’t know; but ’ere we do give a week’s notice or a week’s pay." The farmer turned towards her, conscious of the need for caution, yet longing to persist. "Iss, my dear," she said again, "’tis a week’s notice or a week’s pay." At length, with a contemptuous flinging down of extra coins, Byron completed the transaction. Without a word Jim swept up the money and turned to go. As he swung out of the room, his head up, his nailed hoots ringing on the flags, Leadville, in a sudden access of irritation, flung after him a few hot words. "And mind what I’ve told yer. You pick yer bones off from ’ere." The young man, pausing on the threshold, looked back. In his eye was a defiant sparkle and his smile was blithe. He would welcome trouble. "I’ve told yer before, I don’t take no more notice of ’ee than that!" and he snapped his fingers in derision. With a furious oath Byron sprang forward but Mrs. Tom was before him. From where she stood it was easy to push the door to and she did so, nimbly and with a will. By the time the raging farmer had opened it again, Jim had disappeared into the mirk of the, as yet, moonless night. Mrs. Tom, at his back, smiled her relief. For the moment the quarrel, hanging over them like a rain-filled cloud, had been averted and, if her plan of ’land between’ were carried out, they would not meet again for some time. "Now, my dear," she said in kindly wise, "don’t ’ee go takin’ no notice of’n, ’tis naught but a young chap and cockerils do craw loud. Take and set down by the fire now. I’m sure you must be tired." Byron paid little heed to her but, in the end, her deft and quiet movements as she laid the supper, her familiar voice relating the small events of the day, talking of Sabina and the respect shown her by the neighbourhood, had the desired effect. He threw himself into Old Squire’s chair and, pulling off his mud-caked boots, stretched his feet to the glow. The black garments upon which the women had been employed were piled beside Aunt Louisa’s machine on the side-table; but otherwise the place was as usual, austerely tidy and yet comfortable, the plain dignified living-room of a thriving farmer. Byron, tired after his day at Stowe, glad to have taken the first step towards getting rid of Rosevear, leaned back. He was happy in that this space between four thick walls was now, at last, actually his. "’Av yer thought it over," said Mrs. Tom, breaking eggs into a pan and proceeding to fry them, "’oo you’ll ’av ’ere to stay wi’ yer? ’Cos you can’t live by yerself and I shan’t be able to come always, so I should settle it up if I was you." "What d’yer mean? "Must ’av somebody to cook for yer and do the work."