Near the manor house on a recent afternoon, a farmer laughed when asked what he thought a future owner might do with it.

The farmer laughed again, clapped Silk on the shoulder and then showed him where to put up the horses.

"Why, mother," laughed the farmer as he passed through the kitchen, swinging the great milk-churns, "you've got almost more than you can manage there."

The farmer laughed, perhaps to hear such a question from a tramp.

The farmers on the horses laughed to see my desperate leaps and wrenches.

"It's not that bad," laughs the farmer.

The farmer laughed as he stepped back across the dung channel.

The farmers laughed and trudged on.

The farmer laughed evilly, teeth showing white in his grubby face.

"The poor farmers," Ernest once laughed savagely; "the trusts have them both coming and going."