finest crops of hay in the county?"

A chorus of gruff voices answered him:

"Ay, Mister Jocelyn!"

"That's right!"

"I never 'member more'n two wet seasons and then we got last load
in 'tween showers," observed one man, thoughtfully.

"There ain't never been nothin' wrong with Briar Farm hay crops
anyway--all the buyers knows that for thirty mile round," said
another.

"And the wheat and the corn and the barley and the oats the same,"
struck in the old farmer again--"all the seed sown by hand and the
harvest reaped by hand, and every man and boy in the village or
near it has found work enough to keep him in his native place,
spring, summer, autumn and winter, isn't that so?"

"Ay, ay!"

"Never a day out o' work!"

"Talk of unemployed trouble," went on Jocelyn, "if the old ways
were kept up and work done in the old fashion, there'd be plenty
for all England's men to do, and to feed fair and hearty! But the
idea nowadays is to rush everything just to get finished with it,
and then to play cards or football, and get drunk till the legs