"About--?"

"About the farm. He'll give me six hundred pounds for it and take the
stock at what it's worth, and he's willing we should stop on as tenants
at fifty pounds a year rent."

His wife was ominously silent. He glanced at her doubtfully.

"I shall stop on as tenant for the present and Tom can go on working
it. When we reach the silver, and the money begins to come back, we can
decide what to do afterwards."

Still his wife said nothing, but her face was white and set. It was hard
for her to put herself in opposition to him, but here she found it
necessary. He was going too far.

It was only when the silence had grown ominous and painful, that she
said, slowly and with difficulty--

"I'm sorry to look like going against you, Tom, but I can't see it right
you should sell the farm."

"It'll make no difference to you and the young ones. I'll see to that."

"It's not right and you mustn't do it."

"Mustn't do it!--And it's as good as done!"

"It can't be done until your mother and I consent, and we can't see it's
a right thing to do."