ow were come; but were they
any better? The baronet, indeed, seemed bent upon inquiry, reform,
redress; but, as he never went without the right-hand man, his
endeavours were always unsuccessful. At first it would appear that the
bailiff had gone upon his old plan, shrugging up his shoulders to the
men at the master's meanness, while he praised to the landlord the
condition of his tenants; but this could not long deceive, so he turned
instanter on another tack; he assumed the despot, issuing authoritative
edicts, which no one dared to disobey; he made the labourer hide his
needs, and intercepted at its source the lord's benevolence; he began to
be found out, so the bolder spirits said, in filching with both hands
from man and master; and, to the mind of more than one shrewd observer,
was playing the unjust steward to admiration.

But stop: let us hear the other side; it is possible we may have been
mistaken. Bailiffs are never popular, particularly if they are too
honest, and this one is a stern man with a repulsive manner. Who knows
whether his advice to Acton may not have been wise and kind, and would
not have conduced to a general rise of wages? Who can prove, nay,
venture to insinuate, any such systematic roguery against a man hitherto
so strict, so punctual, so sanctimonious? Even in the case of Sir John's
golden gift, Jennings may be right after all; it is quite possible that
Roger was mistaken, and had gilt a piece of silver with his longings;
and the upright man might well take umbrage at so vile an imputation as
that hot and silly speech; it was foolish, very foolish, to have quoted
text against him, and no wonder that the labourer got dismissed for it.
Then again to return to wages--who knows? it might be, all things
considered, the only way of managing a rise; the bailiff must know his
master's mind best, and Acton had been wise to have done as he bade him;
perhaps it really was well-meant, and might have got him twelve
shillings a-week, instead of eight as hitherto; perhaps Simon was a
shrewd man, and arranged it cleverly; perhaps Roger was an honest man,
and couldn't but think others so.

Any how, though, all was lost now, and he blamed his own rash tongue,
poor fellow, for what he could not help fearing was the ruin of himself
and all he loved. With a melancholy heart, he shouldered his spade, and
slowly plodded homewards. How long should he have a home? How was he to
get bread, to get work, if the bailiff