her
across the table. He had asked after Ellen, knowing she had been to
Folkestone.

"Ellen's fine--and learning such good manners as it seems a shame to
bring her into these parts at Christmas for her to lose 'em."

"On the other hand. Miss Godden, she might impart them to us," said the
Squire from a little farther down.

"She's learning how to dance and make curtsies right down to the floor,"
said Joanna.

"Then she's fit to see the Queen. You really mustn't keep her away from
us at Christmas--on the contrary, we ought to make some opportunities
for watching her dance; she must be as pretty as a sprite."

"That she is," agreed Joanna, warming and mollified, "and I've bought
her a new gown that pulls out like an accordion, so as she can wave her
skirts about when she dances."

"Well, the drawing-room at North Farthing would make an excellent
ball-room ... we must see about that--eh, Martin?"

"It'll want a new floor laid down--there's rot under the carpet," was
his son's disheartening reply. But Joanna had lost the smarting of her
own wound in the glow of her pride for Ellen, and she ate the rest of
her dinner in good-humoured contempt of Martin Trevor.

When the time for the speeches came her health was proposed by the
Chairman.

"Gentlemen," he said, "let us drink to--the Lady."

The chivalry of the committee had prompted them to offer her Southland
to respond to this toast. But Joanna had doubts of his powers as an
orator, whereas she had none of her own. She stood up, a glow of amber
brightness above all the black coats, and spoke of her gratification, of
her work at Ansdore and hopes for south-country farming. Her speech, as
might have been expected, was highly dogmatic. She devoted her last
words to the Marsh as a grain-bearing district--on one or two farms,
where pasture had been broken, the yield in wheat had been found
excellent. Since that was so, why had so few farms hitherto shown
enterprise in this direction? There was no denying that arable paid
better than pasture, and the only excuse for neglecting it was poverty
of soil. It was obvious that no such poverty existed here--on the
contrary, the soil was rich, and yet no crops were grown in it except
roots and here and there a few acres of beans or lucerne. It was the old
idea, she supposed, about breaking up grass. It was time that old idea
was bust--she herself would lead the way at Ansdore next spring.

As she was the guest of the evening,