"Four thousand acres, my lord."
"Well, the men were right in that, anyhow. There seems to be some dispute, Mr. Wilson, as to whose duty it is to repair the cottages."
"Oh, there's no dispute at all, my lord."
"Really?"
"No. Each of these men agreed with me that they should repair their own cottages, which they are entirely too lazy to do. It only means a handful of thatch on the roof, and a bit of plaster here and there on the walls."
"What have you to say to that, Mr. Stiles?" asked Stranleigh.
Stiles moistened his lips two or three times.
"Well, my lord, I don't know that I can say anything to it."
"Is it true that you consented to make repairs?"
"Well, my lord, we all agreed to something: we had to. You see, a poor man has no choice. He must have a cottage near the farm where he works: on the farm if possible. Take my word for it, there's too few cottages, and if Mr. Wilson here says: 'You sign this or you can't get the cottage,' why, we've got to sign it."
"Oh, there's no coercion at all about it," cried Wilson, with a touch of anger. "These men are constitutional grumblers. The cottages are as good as any others in the county. Besides, if they do not wish to apply for our cottages, there are houses to let in the village of Muddlebury."
