An aged man was listening to a graphic account of what the new state of things would be like.  There would be no squire, no parson, no woods or preserves—­all grubbed for cabbage gardens—­no parks, no farmers.  ’No farmers,’ said the old fellow, ‘then who’s to pay I my wages?’ There he hit the blot, no doubt.  If the first four points of the new charter were carried into effect, agricultural wages would no longer exist.  But if such a consummation depends upon the action of the cottager it will be a long time coming.  The idea did not originate with him—­he cares nothing for it—­and can only be got to support it under the guise of an agitation for wages.  Except by persistent stirring from without he cannot be got to move even then.  The labourer, in fact, is not by any means such a fool as his own leaders endeavour to make him out.  He is perfectly well aware that the farmer, or any person who stands in the position of the farmer, cannot pay the same money in winter as in summer.

Two new cottages of a very superior character were erected in the corner of an arable field, abutting on the highway.  As left by the builders a more uninviting spot could scarcely be imagined.  The cottages themselves were well designed and well built, but the surroundings were like a wilderness.  Heaps of rubbish here, broken bricks there, the ground trampled hard as the road itself.  No partition from the ploughed field behind beyond a mere shallow trench enclosing what was supposed to be the garden.  Everything bleak, unpromising, cold, and unpleasant.  Two families went into these cottages, the men working on the adjoining farm.  The aspect of the place immediately began to change.  The rubbish was removed, the best of it going to improve the paths and approaches; a quick-set hedge was planted round the enclosure.  Evening after evening, be the weather what it might, these two men were in that garden at work—­after a long day in the fields.  In the dinner hour even they sometimes snatched a few minutes to trim something.  Their spades turned over the whole of the soil, and planting commenced.  Plots were laid out for cabbage, plots for potatoes, onions, parsnips.

Then having provided necessaries for the immediate future they set about preparing for extras.  Fruit trees—­apple, plum, and damson—­were planted; also some roses.  Next beehives appeared and were elevated on stands and duly protected from the rain.  The last work was the building of pigsties—­rude indeed and made of a few slabs—­but sufficient to answer the purpose.  Flowers in pots appeared in the windows, flowers appeared beside the garden paths.  The change was so complete and so quickly effected I could hardly realise that so short a time since there had been nothing there but a blank open space.  Persons travelling along the road could not choose but look on and admire the transformation.