He'll give me six hundred pounds for it and take the stock at what it's worth, and he's willing we should stop on as tenants at fifty pounds a year rent." His wife was ominously silent.

He glanced at her doubtfully.
"I shall stop on as tenant for the present and Tom can go on working it.

When we reach the silver, and the money begins to come back, we can decide what to do afterwards." Still his wife said nothing, but her face was white and set.

It was hard for her to put herself in opposition to him, but here she found it necessary.

He was going too far.
It was only when the silence had grown ominous and painful, that she said, slowly and with difficulty-- "I'm sorry to look like going against you, Tom, but I can't see it right you should sell the farm." "It'll make no difference to you and the young ones.