raising his own quantity of wheat on his own small allotment.
The men were all chosen from London, and a motley crew they were, none of them familiar with gardening or with country life. Stranleigh, dressed in corduroy and fustian, made a quite perfect theatrical labouring man who would have delighted the heart of a London stage-manager, but would have deceived a farmer not for one moment. Blake had seen to it that apartment number one was allotted to Stranleigh, number one being the two rooms next to the main building on the right hand side, thus Blake could call upon his chief without going down the cloisters and passing any other apartment.
Stillson Crane was a middle-aged man of most benevolent appearance. His long beard, which had once been black, was now tinged with grey. One could guess he was a lover of his fellow-men not only by his benign expression, but by his clothes of solemn black, which fitted him so badly. He possessed the gift of tongues, and was a most eloquent exhorter. Indeed, if the forty had followed the counsels of their Ali Baba, they would have been much more model citizens than they were.
The head gardener was a man who knew his
