"And I am proud of you, mother--proud, too, of the moors that reared us both. You can't tell how _lifted_ I felt as I came up the rickety main street, with the old Black Bull at the top. Mother, what fools people are! They wonder where I get my inspiration, and they would never believe if I told them." "It doesn't signify, Griff; you and I know, don't we? Now, how long are you going to give me? I don't mean to let you go under a month." "I want to winter here, if you will let me; a whole year I have been away, and now I am to have a spell of home." "Thank you for that word _home_, dear. You are sound at the core, I think, Griff." "But rotten in the rind, eh, mother? It sounds rather as if you meant that." Again the old lady surveyed him critically. "No, you are moor-oak from bark to heart--in spite of the feeble women you have been painting lately. I wish your father were alive to see you, Griff." "You'll turn my head, foolish mother. Give me something to eat, instead of naming me in the same breath with father; it is a long stride to _that_." He followed her into the kitchen, with its polished dish-covers on the wall, its sand on the floor, its glorious old fireplace, big enough for ten ordinary fires. He teased Rebecca, the cook, into mock indignation, as he had done time and again in years gone by. He tickled the tail of the tom-cat that lay dozing on the hearth, and laughed like a boy when the grizzled old fellow awoke and spat at him. "Now, Becky, I want a really square meal--a downright, Yorkshire meal," he cried. "You have a remarkably fine ham there; down with it, and cut me some slices. As many eggs as you like. Oat-cake, too--yes, I must have oat-cake and cheese to finish with. Phew, mother, it's good to be back!" When the meal was over, and Griff had smoked a couple of pipes in the ingle-nook; when the mother and he had fired off questions and answers at each other, and had taken joy of their being together once more, Griff rose and bent over the old lady. "May I go out and have a chat with the moors? I won't be long away," he laughed. "Of course, Griff. I have no say in the matter, really, have I?" responded the mother, with a lover-like affectation of pique. "In that case I won't go." "Nonsense, boy! Off with you, and don't stay longer than you can help. Will I come with you? Certainly not! You want to have your chat in private; two's company, and I shall have my revenge when you return. Away with you!"