"Yes," said Hayes; "I imagine it would be prudent not to have the matter
brought up. However, if Bell can send back his lurry full, the economy is
plain. It will enable him to sell his coal and seed at a moderate price
and pay a higher rent."

"That's so," Osborn agreed, and knitted his brows.

He doubted if Bell would give his customers the benefit of the cheaper
haulage, but the advantage of getting a higher rent was obvious. Osborn
knew he was being persuaded to do a shabby thing and hesitated. Money,
however, was needed and must be got.

"Very well," he said, "Mr. Bell can have the lease."

They talked about something else, and when Osborn went fishing after the
others left the wind had dropped, the sun was bright, and the trout would
not rise. He felt rather injured, because he had paid for his attention
to duty, when he joined his wife and daughter at tea on the lawn.

A copper beech threw a cool shadow across the small table and basket
chairs; the china and silver were old and good. Beyond the belt of
wavering shade, the recently mown grass gave out a moist smell in the hot
sun. The grass grew fine and close, for the turf was old, but there were
patches of ugly weeds. The borders by the house were thinly planted and
the color plan was rude, but one could not do much with a rheumatic
gardener and a boy. There used to be two men, but Mrs. Osborn had
insisted on cutting wages down.

Across the yew hedge, the tarn sparkled like a mirror and on its farther
side, where a clump of dark pines overhung a beach of silver sand, the