enough left at Greshamsbury, still means enough at the squire's
disposal, to light one bonfire, to roast, whole in its skin, one
bullock. Frank's virility came on him not quite unmarked, as that of
the parson's sons might do, or the son of a neighbouring attorney. It
could still be reported in the Barsetshire Conservative "Standard" that
'The beards waggled all,' at Greshamsbury, now as they had done for
many centuries on similar festivals. Yes; it was so reported. But
this, like so many other such reports, had but a shadow of truth in
it. 'They poured the liquor in,' certainly, those who were there; but
the beards did not wag as they had been wont to wag in former years.
Beards won't wag for the telling. The squire was at his wits' end for
money, and the tenants one and all had so heard. Rents had been raised
on them; timber had fallen fast; the lawyer on the estate was growing
rich; tradesmen in Barchester, nay, in Greshamsbury itself, were
beginning to mutter; and the squire himself would not be merry. Under
such circumstances the throats of the tenantry will still swallow, but
their beards will not wag.

'I minds well,' said Farmer Oaklerath to his neighbour, 'when the
squire hisself comed of age. Lord love 'ee! There was fun going that
day. There was more yale drank then than's been brewed at the big
house these two years. T'old squoire was a one'er.'

'And I minds when the squoire was borned; minds it well,' said an old
farmer sitting opposite. 'Them was the days! It an't that long age
neither. Squoire a'nt come o' fifty yet; no, nor an't nigh it, though
he looks it. Things be altered at Greemsbury'--such was the rural
pronunciation--'altered sadly, neebor Oaklerath. Well, well; I'll soon
be gone, I will, and so it an't no use talking; but arter paying one
pound fifteen for them acres for more nor fifty year, I didn't think