In this study he spent many hours when at home—­he rose late, and after breakfast repaired hither.  The steward was usually in attendance.  He was a commonplace man, but little above the description of a labourer.  He received wages not much superior to those a labourer takes in summer time, but as he lived at the Home Farm (which was in hand) there were of course some perquisites.  A slow, quiet man, of little or no education, he pottered about and looked after things in general.  One morning perhaps he would come in to talk with the squire about the ash wood they were going to cut in the ensuing winter, or about the oak bark which had not been paid for.  Or it might be the Alderney cow or the poultry at the Home Farm, or a few fresh tiles on the roof of the pig-sty, which was decaying.  A cart wanted a new pair of wheels or a shaft.  One of the tenants wanted a new shed put up, but it did not seem necessary; the old one would do very well if people were not so fidgety.  The wife or daughter of one of the cottage people was taking to drink and getting into bad ways.  This or that farmer had had some sheep die.  Another farmer had bought some new silver-mounted harness, and so on, through all the village gossip.

Often it was the gamekeeper instead of the steward who came in or was sent for.  The squire kept a large head of pheasants for certain reasons, but he was not over-anxious to pay for them.  The keeper grumbled about his wages, that he had no perquisites, and that the shooting season never brought him any fees—­unless the squire let the place; he only wished he let it every year.  This, of course, was said aside; to the squire he was hat in hand.  He had to produce his vouchers for food for the pheasants and dogs, and to give particulars why a certain gate on the plantation wanted renewing.  The steward had seen it, and thought it might be repaired; why did the keeper think it ought to be renewed altogether?  And was there not plenty of larch timber lying about, that had been thrown and not sold, that would make a very good spar-gate, without purchasing one?  Why couldn’t old Hooker, the hedge carpenter, knock it up cheap?

Next came the coachman—­the squire did not keep up anything of a stud, just enough to work the carriage, and some ordinary riding horses and a pony for the children.  The coachman had to explain why a new lock was wanted on the stable door; why the blacksmith’s bill was so much for shoes; after which there was a long gossip about the horses of a gentleman who had come down and rented a place for the season.  The gardener sometimes had an interview about the quantity of apples that might be sold from the orchard, and twenty other peddling details, in which the squire delighted.  As for the butler, time at last had brought him to bear with patience the inquisition about the waste corks and the empty bottles.