Lady Mason’s drawing-room was very pretty, though it was by no means fashionably furnished. Indeed, she eschewed fashion in all things, and made no pretence of coming out before the world as a great lady. She had never kept any kind of carriage, though her means, combined with her son’s income, would certainly have justified her in a pony-chaise. Since Lucius had become master of the house he had presented her with such a vehicle, and also with the pony and harness complete; but as yet she had never used it, being afraid, as she said to him with a smile, of appearing ambitious before the stern citizens of Hamworth. “Nonsense, mother,” he had replied, with a considerable amount of young dignity in his face. “We are all entitled to those comforts for which we can afford to pay without injury to anyone. I shall take it ill of you if I do not see you using it.”
“Oh, Sir Peregrine, this is so kind of you,” said Lady Mason, coming forward to meet her friend. She was plainly dressed, without any full exuberance of costume, and yet everything about her was neat and pretty, and everything had been the object of feminine care. A very plain dress may occasion as much study as the most elaborate—and may be quite as worthy of the study it has caused. Lady Mason, I am inclined to think, was by no means indifferent to the subject, but then to her belonged the great art of hiding her artifice.
“Not at all; not at all,” said Sir Peregrine, taking her hand and pressing it, as he always did. “What is the use of neighbours if they are not neighbourly?” This was all very well from Sir Peregrine in the existing case; but he was not a man who by any means recognised the necessity of being civil to all who lived near him. To the great and to the poor he was neighbourly; but it may be doubted whether he would have thought much of Lady Mason if she had been less good looking or less clever.
“Ah! I know how good you always are to me. But I’ll tell you why I am troubling you now. Lucius went off two days since to Liverpool.”
“My grandson told me that he had left home.”
“He is an excellent young man, and I am sure that I have every reason to be thankful.” Sir Peregrine, remembering the affair in Cowcross Street, and certain other affairs of a somewhat similar nature, thought that she had; but for all that he would not have exchanged his own bright-eyed lad for Lucius Mason with all his virtues and all his learning.
“And indeed I am thankful,” continued the widow. “Nothing can be better than his conduct and mode of life; but—”
“I hope he has no attraction at Liverpool, of which you disapprove.”
“No, no; there is nothing of that kind. His attraction is—; but perhaps I had better explain the whole matter. Lucius, you know, has taken to farming.”
“He has taken up the land which you held yourself, has he not?”
“Yes, and a little more; and he is anxious to add even to that. He is very energetic about it, Sir Peregrine.”
“Well; the life of a gentleman farmer is not a bad one; though in his special circumstances I would certainly have recommended a profession.”
“Acting upon your advice I did urge him to go to the bar. But he has a will of his own, and a mind altogether made up as to the line of life which he thinks will suit him best. What I fear now is, that he will spend more money upon experiments than he can afford.”
“Experimental farming is an expensive amusement,” said Sir Peregrine, with a very serious shake of his head.
“I am afraid it is; and now he has gone to Liverpool to buy—guano,” said the widow, feeling some little shame in coming to so inconsiderable a conclusion after her somewhat stately prologue.
“To buy guano! Why could he not get his guano from Walker, as my man Symonds does?”
“He says it is not good. He analyzed it, and—”
“Fiddlestick! Why didn’t he order it in London, if he didn’t like Walker’s. Gone to Liverpool for guano! I’ll tell you what it is, Lady Mason; if he intends to farm his land in that way, he should have a very considerable capital at his back. It will be a long time before he sees his money again.” Sir Peregrine had been farming all his life, and had his own ideas on the subject. He knew very well that no gentleman, let him set to work as he might with his own land, could do as well with it as a farmer who must make a living out of his farming besides paying the rent;—who must do that or else have no living; and he knew also that such operations as those which his young friend was now about to attempt was an amusement fitted only for the rich. It may be also that he was a little old-fashioned, and therefore prejudiced against new combinations between agriculture and chemistry.
