The dispute had gone on for two years. The Squire's law-costs had
long since swallowed up the original money in dispute.
Then Miss Bremerton, to whom the Squire had dictated some letters in
connection with the squabble, had quietly made a suggestion--had
asked leave to write a letter on approval. For sheer boredom with
the whole business, the Squire had approved and sent the letter.
Then, this very morning, a reply from the farmer. Grateful
astonishment! 'Of course I am ready to meet you, sir--I always have
been. I will get my solicitor to put what you proposed in your
letter of this morning into shape immediately, and will leave it
signed at your door to-night. I trust this trouble is now over. It
has been a great grief to me.'
And now there was the man bringing the letter. One worry done with!
How many more the same patient hand might have dealt with, if its
exacting owner hadn't thrown up her work--so preposterously!
The Squire gave an angry sigh, slipped out of the visitor's way
through a shrubbery, and returned to his library.
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