ace, knowing
that the old man's eyes were following him. But how pig-headed they
were, seeing nothing but their own point of view! Well, he could not
alter his decision. They would go at the June quarter--not a day before,
nor after.

Passing Tryst's cottage, he noticed a 'fly' drawn up outside, and its
driver talking to a woman in hat and coat at the cottage doorway. She
avoided his eye.

'The wife's sister again!' he thought. 'So that fellow's going to be an
ass, too? Hopeless, stubborn lot!' And his mind passed on to his scheme
for draining the bottom fields at Cantley Bromage. This village trouble
was too small to occupy for long the mind of one who had so many duties.
. . .

Old Gaunt remained at the gate watching till the tall figure passed out
of sight, then limped slowly down the path and entered his son's cottage.
Tom Gaunt, not long in from work, was sitting in his shirtsleeves,
reading the paper--a short, thick-set man with small eyes, round, ruddy
cheeks, and humorous lips indifferently concealed by a ragged moustache.
Even in repose there was about him something talkative and disputatious.
He was clearly the kind of man whose eyes and wit would sparkle above a
pewter pot. A good workman, he averaged out an income of perhaps
eighteen shillings a week, counting the two shillings' worth of
vegetables that he grew. His erring daughter washed for two old ladies in
a bungalow, so that with old Gaunt's five shillings from the parish, the
total resources of this family of five, including two small boys at
school, was seven and twenty shillings a week. Quite a sum! His
comparative wealth no doubt contributed to the reputation of Tom Gaunt,
well known as local wag and disturber of political meetings. His method
with these gatherings, whether Liberal or Tory, had a certain masterly
simplicity. By interjecting questions that could not be understood, and
commenting on the answers received, he insured perpetual laughter, with
the most salutary effects on the over-consideration of any political
question, together with a tendency to make his neighbors say: "Ah! Tom
Gaunt, he's a proper caution, he is!" An encomium dear to his ears.
What he seriously thought about anything in this world, no one knew; but
some suspected him of voting Liberal, because he disturbed their meetings
most. His loyalty to his daughter was not credited to affection. It was
like Tom Gaunt to stick his toes in and kick--the Quality, f