George called Grierson to take the team, and leading the new arrivals to the house, which was still in disorder, he found them seats in the kitchen.  It was rather roughly and inadequately furnished, and Edgar had decided that Sylvia had spent little of her time there.  After they had talked for a while, a man, dressed in blue duck trousers, a saffron-colored shirt, and an old slouch hat, which he did not remove, walked in, carrying a riding quirt.  Grant returned his greeting curtly, and then the man addressed George.

“I heard you were running this place,” he said.

“That’s correct.”

“Then I put in the wheat on your summer fallow; Mrs. Marston told me to.  Thought I’d come along and let you have the bill.”

His manner was assertively offhand, and George did not ask him to sit down.

“It’s a very second-rate piece of work,” George said.  “You might have used the land-packer more than you did.”

“It’s good enough.  Anyway, I’ll trouble you for the money.”

Edgar was sensible of indignation mixed with amusement.  This overbearing fellow did not know George Lansing.

“I think you had better take off your hat before we go any farther—­it’s customary.  Then you may tell me what I owe you.”

The man looked astonished, but he complied with the suggestion, and afterward stated his charge, which was unusually high.  Edgar noticed that Grant was watching George with quiet interest.

“I suppose you have a note from Mrs. Marston fixing the price?”

The other explained that the matter had been arranged verbally.

“Was anybody else present when you came to terms?” George asked.

“You can quit feeling, and pay up!” exclaimed the stranger.  “I’ve told you how much it is.”

“The trouble is that you’re asking nearly double the usual charge per acre.”

Grant smiled approvingly, but the man advanced with a truculent air to the table at which George was sitting.

“I’ve done the work; that’s good enough for me.”

“You have done it badly, but I’ll give you a check now, based on the regular charge, which should come to”—­George made a quick calculation on a strip of paper and handed it to the man.  “This is merely because you seem in a hurry.  If you’re not satisfied, you can wait until I get an answer from Mrs. Marston; or I’ll ask some of my neighbors to arbitrate.”

The man hesitated, with anger in his face.

“I guess I’ll take the check,” he said sullenly.

Crossing the floor, George took a pen and some paper from a shelf.

“Sit here,” he said, when he came back, “and write me a receipt.”

The other did as he was bidden, and George pointed toward the door.

“That’s settled; I won’t keep you.”

The man looked hard at him, and then went quietly out; and Grant leaned back in his seat with a soft laugh.