idge the unreal gulf between
them. At last he said:

"You a native here?"

"No, sir. From over Malvern way. Livin' here with my darter, owin' to my
leg. Her 'usband works in this here factory."

"And I'm from London," Felix said.

"Thart you were. Fine place, London, they say!"

Felix shook his head. "Not so fine as this Worcestershire of yours."

The old man turned his quick, dark gaze. "Aye!" he said, "people'll be
a bit nervy-like in towns, nowadays. The country be a good place for a
healthy man, too; I don't want no better place than the country--never
could abide bein' shut in."

"There aren't so very many like you, judging by the towns."

The old man smiled--that smile was the reverse of a bitter tonic coated
with sweet stuff to make it palatable.

"'Tes the want of a life takes 'em," he said. "There's not a many like
me. There's not so many as can't do without the smell of the earth. With
these 'ere newspapers--'tesn't taught nowadays. The boys and gells they
goes to school, and 'tes all in favor of the towns there. I can't work
no more; I'm 's good as gone meself; but I feel sometimes I'll 'ave to
go back. I don't like the streets, an' I guess 'tes worse in London."

"Ah! Perhaps," Felix said, "there are more of us like you than you
think."

Again the old man turned his dark, quick glance.

"Well, an' I widden say no to that, neither. I've seen 'em terrible
homesick. 'Tes certain sure there's lots would never go, ef 'twasn't so
mortial hard on the land. 'Tisn't a bare livin', after that. An' they're
put upon, right and left they're put upon. 'Tes only a man here and
there that 'as something in 'im too strong. I widden never 'ave stayed
in the country ef 'twasn't that I couldn't stand the town life. 'Tes
like some breeds o' cattle--you take an' put 'em out o' their own
country, an' you 'ave to take an' put 'em back again. Only some breeds,
though. Others they don' mind where they go. Well, I've seen the country
pass in my time, as you might say; where you used to see three men you
only see one now."

"Are they ever going back onto the land?"

"They tark about it. I read my newspaper reg'lar. In some places I see
they're makin' unions. That an't no good."

"Why?"

The old man smiled again.

"Why! Think of it! The land's different to anythin' else--that's why!
Different work, different hours, four men's work to-day and one's
to-morrow. Work land wi' unions, same as they've got in this 'ere
fa