Hillcrist. Quite right, Jackman.

Mrs. J. I said to Jackman:  “Mr. Hillcrist’ll stand up for us, I know.  He’s a gentleman,” I said.  “This man,” I said, “don’t care for the neighbourhood, or the people; he don’t care for anything so long as he makes his money, and has his importance.  You can’t expect it, I suppose,” I said; [Bitterly] “havin’ got rich so sudden.”  The gentry don’t do things like that.

Hillcrist. [Abstracted] Quite, Mrs. Jackman, quite!
[To himself] The Centry!  No!

     [Mrs. Hillcrist enters.  A well-dressed woman, with a firm,
     clear-cut face.]

Oh!  Amy!  Mr. and Mrs. Jackman turned out of their cottage, and Mrs. Harvey, and the Drews.  When I sold to Hornblower, I stipulated that they shouldn’t be.

Mrs. J. Our week’s up on Saturday, ma’am, and I’m sure I don’t know where we shall turn, because of course Jackman must be near his work, and I shall lose me washin’ if we have to go far.

Hillcrist. [With decision] You leave it to me, Mrs. Jackman.  Good morning!  Morning, Jackman!  Sorry I can’t move with this gout.

Mrs. J. [For them both] I’m sure we’re very sorry, sir.  Good morning, sir.  Good morning, ma’am; and thank you kindly. [They go out.]

Hillcrist. Turning people out that have been there thirty years.  I won’t have it.  It’s a breach of faith.

Mrs. H. Do you suppose this Hornblower will care two straws about that Jack?

Hillcrist. He must, when it’s put to him, if he’s got any decent feeling.

Mrs. H. He hasn’t.

Hillcrist. [Suddenly] The Jackmans talk of his having bought the
Centry to put up more chimneys.

Mrs. H. Never! [At the window, looking out] Impossible!  It would ruin the place utterly; besides cutting us off from the Duke’s.  Oh, no!  Miss Mullins would never sell behind our backs.

Hillcrist. Anyway I must stop his turning these people out.

Mrs. H. [With a little smile, almost contemptuous] You might have known he’d do something of the sort.  You will imagine people are like yourself, Jack.  You always ought to make Dawker have things in black and white.

Hillcrist. I said quite distinctly:  “Of course you won’t want to disturb the tenancies; there’s a great shortage of cottages.”  Hornblower told me as distinctly that he wouldn’t.  What more do you want?

Mrs. H. A man like that thinks of nothing but the short cut to his own way. [Looking out of the window towards the rise] If he buys the Centry and puts up chimneys, we simply couldn’t stop here.

Hillcrist. My father would turn in his grave.

Mrs. H. It would have been more useful if he’d not dipped the estate, and sold the Centry.  This Hornblower hates us; he thinks we turn up our noses at him.