paid on time. Your information to the contrary is not accurate and should be ignored.
We believe that your requirements for a tenant are beingmet. The gender of the tenant, I respectfully suggest, should make no difference to the situation.
We would be pleased to show you round the farm, so that you can see for yourself that it is being managed properly. Please visit, at your convenience.
Yours faithfully,
S. Mason (Miss)
That might be more effective.
The cattle would soon be housed at night, now that the weather was cold. There was a stack of good hay in the barn and plenty of turnips for winter feed. The farm buildings were clean and tidy and all was as it should be. Well, not quite all. Sally was still hankering after some sheep. It was hard to keep back the tears when she thought of her Motley Flock, which had never been seen since the day they were sold in Ripon. The lambs would have been sold off by now and whoever bought them might have sent the ewes off too, to make mutton pies. Sally was sure she’d never see them again. You have to move on, her mother always said. So Sally had already decided to rear some more lambs in spring, but spring seemed a long way off. There was a gap in the farm that could only be filled by a few sheep.
Pulling on her old shawl, Sally skipped across the green to tell Martha and George what she’d done about the dreadful letter. Martha was relieved to see that Sally had recovered her spirits. The couple both agreed that it was a good idea to ask Mr Radford to see for himself. Meanwhile, said George, the sheep sales are on. ‘Will you take a gamble, lass, and buy a few ewes?’
Sally smiled at him. ‘I’m going to farm as though I will live for ever, as Papa used to say! And at Badger’s Gill, too! Yes, I’d like to come to the next sale with you.’
It was agreed that they would all go to Masham sheep fair the next week and take George’s cart. It was a great social occasion for the whole area. The High-Siders came down from the moors above the town with their little Swaledales, mingling with the lowland farmers from the valley of the Ure. There was even a cross-bred sheep called the Masham becoming popular, but Sallythought it might be too expensive.
It was cold and breezy as they clopped over the common in George’s cart and down into the little town by the river. Everyone was heading for the market square, where temporary pens had been set up with hurdles and hundreds of sheep were bleating. Sally wore a warm winter dress, ladylike boots and a fairly new warm coat. She felt quite equal to competing in the sheep auction. She hadn’t heard from the landlord, but once the letter to him was posted she’d felt quite optimistic. And since Joe had been working with her, she was much less tired and was getting back some of her former brightness.
The sheep fair was a holiday, an outing, a little bit of excitement in a hard-working life. Sally walked round the fair with her friends for a while and then Martha went off to visit a relative and George did some trading in turnips. When they had gone, she wandered by herself, quite happy, sniffing the smell of sheep. She bought some toffee at a stall to give to George and Martha. Robin was there with his brothers, friendly and detached as ever. Suddenly, Sally stopped dead by a pen of ewes. They were a mixed group, some big and some small, some with curly coats and one or two with horns … the Motley Flock, large as life! Composed as usual, watching the passing crowd.
SEVEN
‘Mary, Lavinia, Prudence, Gertrude!’ Sally called softly and the ewes rushed to the side of the pen. She leaned over and stroked them, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I’ll buy you, I promise I will!’
Gertrude the Wensleydale looked up through her fringe of crinkly wool as though she understood Sally’s excitement. Mary’s black face was inscrutable. But whatever their recent experiences, they’d all been well fed and were in fine
We believe that your requirements for a tenant are beingmet. The gender of the tenant, I respectfully suggest, should make no difference to the situation.
We would be pleased to show you round the farm, so that you can see for yourself that it is being managed properly. Please visit, at your convenience.
Yours faithfully,
S. Mason (Miss)
That might be more effective.
The cattle would soon be housed at night, now that the weather was cold. There was a stack of good hay in the barn and plenty of turnips for winter feed. The farm buildings were clean and tidy and all was as it should be. Well, not quite all. Sally was still hankering after some sheep. It was hard to keep back the tears when she thought of her Motley Flock, which had never been seen since the day they were sold in Ripon. The lambs would have been sold off by now and whoever bought them might have sent the ewes off too, to make mutton pies. Sally was sure she’d never see them again. You have to move on, her mother always said. So Sally had already decided to rear some more lambs in spring, but spring seemed a long way off. There was a gap in the farm that could only be filled by a few sheep.
Pulling on her old shawl, Sally skipped across the green to tell Martha and George what she’d done about the dreadful letter. Martha was relieved to see that Sally had recovered her spirits. The couple both agreed that it was a good idea to ask Mr Radford to see for himself. Meanwhile, said George, the sheep sales are on. ‘Will you take a gamble, lass, and buy a few ewes?’
Sally smiled at him. ‘I’m going to farm as though I will live for ever, as Papa used to say! And at Badger’s Gill, too! Yes, I’d like to come to the next sale with you.’
It was agreed that they would all go to Masham sheep fair the next week and take George’s cart. It was a great social occasion for the whole area. The High-Siders came down from the moors above the town with their little Swaledales, mingling with the lowland farmers from the valley of the Ure. There was even a cross-bred sheep called the Masham becoming popular, but Sallythought it might be too expensive.
It was cold and breezy as they clopped over the common in George’s cart and down into the little town by the river. Everyone was heading for the market square, where temporary pens had been set up with hurdles and hundreds of sheep were bleating. Sally wore a warm winter dress, ladylike boots and a fairly new warm coat. She felt quite equal to competing in the sheep auction. She hadn’t heard from the landlord, but once the letter to him was posted she’d felt quite optimistic. And since Joe had been working with her, she was much less tired and was getting back some of her former brightness.
The sheep fair was a holiday, an outing, a little bit of excitement in a hard-working life. Sally walked round the fair with her friends for a while and then Martha went off to visit a relative and George did some trading in turnips. When they had gone, she wandered by herself, quite happy, sniffing the smell of sheep. She bought some toffee at a stall to give to George and Martha. Robin was there with his brothers, friendly and detached as ever. Suddenly, Sally stopped dead by a pen of ewes. They were a mixed group, some big and some small, some with curly coats and one or two with horns … the Motley Flock, large as life! Composed as usual, watching the passing crowd.
SEVEN
‘Mary, Lavinia, Prudence, Gertrude!’ Sally called softly and the ewes rushed to the side of the pen. She leaned over and stroked them, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I’ll buy you, I promise I will!’
Gertrude the Wensleydale looked up through her fringe of crinkly wool as though she understood Sally’s excitement. Mary’s black face was inscrutable. But whatever their recent experiences, they’d all been well fed and were in fine
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