“I suppose Railton’s flock is below the proper standard and the count is short?”

“Yes; the two or three wet years have hit flock-masters hard and Railton had to sell more stock than was prudent, in order to pay his debts.”

“Then if he can’t pay the difference in number and value, the lease can be broken?”

Kit made a sign of agreement and Grace asked:  “But do you think Hayes would break the lease and turn him out?”

“It’s possible,” Kit answered cautiously.

Grace gave him a sharp glance.  “What do you really think, Mr. Askew?  I want to know.”

“Then, my notion is Hayes would like to get Mireside for Jim Richardson.”

“Richardson is his nephew.”

“Just so,” said Kit, with some dryness.  “All the same he’d make a good tenant.  His father is rich enough to start him well.”

Grace’s eyes sparkled, for she saw where the hint led, but she hid her resentment, because, after all, she had doubts.  Osborn needed money and Hayes was cunning.

“I imagine it would hurt Railton to leave.”

“It would hurt him much.  He was born at Mireside and his father took the farm from your grandfather, a very long time since.  Then he’s an old man and has not enough money to begin again at another place.”

“Ah,” said Grace, “it would be very hard if he had to go!  But if he hasn’t money, he couldn’t carry on, even if we renewed the lease.”

“We have had remarkably bad weather for two or three years and the cold rain killed the young lambs, but a change is due.  A dry spring and fine summer would put the old man straight.”

Grace was silent for a few moments and then looked at Kit with some color in her face.

“Thank you for making the situation plain.  You were not anxious to do so, were you?  I think you don’t trust us!”

“I don’t trust Hayes,” Kit said awkwardly.

“But Hayes is our agent.  We are accountable for what he does.”

“In a way, I suppose you are accountable.  For all that, when a landlord has a capable agent it is not the rule for him to meddle.  I understand Mr. Osborn leaves much to Hayes.”

Grace pondered.  Kit’s embarrassment indicated that he was trying to save her feelings, but he must know, as she knew, that a landlord was rightly judged by his agent’s deeds.  Although she rather liked Kit Askew, he had humiliated her.

“Well,” she said resolutely, “something must be done.  If the strayed sheep could be found, it would help.”

“Yes,” said Kit.  “Tom and I start for Swinset to-morrow to try to bring them back.  But if you’ll wait a moment, I’ll open the gate.”

He walked through the mud the cattle had churned up, and, lifting the broken gate, pushed it back so that Grace could cross a drier spot.  Then, as he stood with his hands on the rotten bars, she stopped.

“Don’t start for Swinset until you hear from me,” she said.  “Thank you.  Good night!”