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Updated: May 13, 2025
The young farmer scribbled a word or two on a piece of paper, which he folded and gave to Mr Chivers with some hurried instruction; and Mr Chivers steered his way out with agility. But meanwhile the bidding for Barton's Orchard had risen to two hundred. "Say another ten, to keep it going," proposed Mr Middlecoat, wiping his brow although the weather was chilly.
"Mr Middlecoat, how can you be so foolish? He's as good as a prize-fighter!" The young farmer stared and lowered his guard slowly. "Your servant, ma'am! . . . A prize-fighter? Why couldn't he have told me so, at first?"
Now and again, if Mr Middlecoat miscalculated, a friend helped and raised the price by a very few pounds for Mr Middlecoat to try again: which Mr Middlecoat duly did.
"No, I don't," answered Mr Middlecoat. "But you can't get at 'em and avoid these pesky thorns." Said Mrs Bosenna gaily, "Mr Middlecoat called on me half an hour ago wi' the purpose to make himself disagreeable as usual though I forget what his excuse was, this time and I set him to hunt caterpillars." "Dang it, look at my hands!" growled the young farmer, holding them out.
All the plants could be in before the end of February, and I'll promise myself that by June, when the Queen's day came round, there shouldn't be a loyaller-bloomin' garden in the land." "Well," allowed Cai, "that's sensibler anyway than puttin' up arches and mottoes. But what's to prevent ye?" "'Tis that nasty disagreeable Mr Middlecoat," answered Mrs Bosenna pettishly.
We are busy, you see, and some of my new beauties have the most dreadful thorns! . . . By the way" she glanced over her shoulder, following Cai's incredulous stare. "I believe you know Mr Middlecoat? Yes, yes, of course I remember!"
The coppice is good coppice, too." "'Twill hardly pay to clear," answered Mr Middlecoat. "But why can't ye lump this lot in with the two next? . . . That's my suggestion. If Mr Baker is agreeable? They all run in one stretch, so to speak; and, in biddin' for the whole, a man would know where he's to." Mr Dewy, speaking in whispers behind his palm, held consultation with Mr Baker.
"And last month, wi' that spell of east wind, 'twas the green-fly. But I reckon we've mastered the pests by this time. Didn't find many caterpillars, eh?" "No, I didn'," answered Mr Middlecoat, still sulkily. "But them as I did you bet I scrunched." "Well, they deserved it, for the last few be the dangerousest. They give over the leaves to eat the buds.
"The fact is though I don't want it generally known yet that yesterday Mr Middlecoat, in his disagreeable way, made me promise to marry him?" Before the pair could recover, she had moved to another bush. "Red roses, you prefer? Red is rare amongst the Teas there's but one, as yet, that can be called red if this suits you? And, by luck, there are two perfect buttonholes."
He announced, "Lot 4 Two arable fields, known as Willaparc Veor and Willapark Vear respectively: the one of six acres, one rood, and six perches; the other of three and a half acres." As the auction proceeded, even the guileless Cai could not help detecting an air of unreality about it. Mr Middlecoat bid for everything.
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