"Have you----" Mr. Lavender began eagerly; "is it--are you employing any
German prisoners, sir?"
The farmer did not seem to hear. "He must," thought Mr. Lavender, "be of
the old stolid English variety."
The farmer, who was indeed attired in a bowler hat and Bedford cords,
continued to gaze over his land, unconscious of Mr. Lavender's presence.
"I am asking you a question, sir," resumed the latter in a louder
voice. "And however patriotically absorbed you may be in cultivating
your soil, there is no necessity for rudeness."
The farmer did not move a muscle.
"Sir," began Mr. Lavender again, very patiently, "though I have always
heard that the British farmer is of all men least amenable to influence
and new ideas, I have never believed it, and I am persuaded that if you
will but listen I shall be able to alter your whole outlook about the
agricultural future of this country." For it had suddenly occurred to
him that it might be a long time before he had again such an opportunity
of addressing a rural audience on the growth of food, and he was loth to
throw away the chance. The farmer, however, continued to stand with
his hack to the speaker, paying no more heed to his voice than to the
buzzing of a fly.
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