"A bad year," said Mr. Tomkins; "still, I guess you're not worrying. I
understand you put a silo in your barn. But I suppose you have your
own reasons for doing it. A good year for cows, what with the grass.
I hear you're thinking of buying Crabbe's Jersey bull. A fine animal;
I'd like him myself."

"You're welcome to him," said Mr. Barly.

"Ah," said Mr. Tomkins, "he's beyond me, Mr. Barly, beyond my means.
I'm not a rich man. But I have my health."

"What are riches?" asked Mr. Barly. "They're a source of trouble, Mr.
Tomkins. They teach a young girl to waste her time."

"Well, trouble," said Mr. Tomkins.

"But what's trouble? Between you and me, a bit of trouble is good for
us all. Then we're liable to know better."

Mr. Barly shook his head wearily. "I don't know," he said; "folks are
queer crotchets."

"Why, then," said Mr. Tomkins, "so they are; and so would I be, as
crotchety as you like, if I owned anything beyond the | little I have."

"Small good it would do you," said Mr. Barly. "Life is a heavy cross,
having or not having, what with other people doing as they please."
And taking leave of Mr. Tomkins, he went home, thinking that in a world
where people robbed their neighbors, it were better not to possess
anything.