Clement was on guard over himself again. "Your business is with bees"--his mother's words echoed in his mind to the pulsing monotone of the swarm. He tried to change the subject, sent for a pail of water, and drew a large syringe from his bag, though the circumstances really rendered this unnecessary. But John Grimbal, always finding a sort of pleasure in his own torment, took occasion to cross-question Clement. "I suppose I'm laughed at still in Chagford, am I not? Not that it matters to me." "I don't think so; an object of envy, rather, for good wives are easier to get than great riches." "That's your opinion, is it? I'm not so sure. Are you married?" "No." "Going to be, I'll wager, if you think good wives can be picked off blackberry bushes." "I don't say that at all. But I am going to be married certainly. I'm fortunate and unfortunate. I've won a prize, but--well, honey's cheap. I must wait." "D' you trust her? Is waiting so easy?" "Yes, I trust her, as I trust the sun to swing up out of the east to-morrow, to set in the west to-night. She's the only being of my own breed I do trust. As for the other question, no--waiting isn't easy." "Nor yet wise. I shouldn't wait. Tell me who she is. Women interest me, and the taking of 'em in marriage." Hicks hesitated. Here he was drifting helpless under this man's hard eyes--helpless and yet not unwilling. He told himself that he was safe enough and could put a stop on his mouth when he pleased. Besides, John Grimbal was not only unaware that the bee-keeper knew anything against Blanchard, but had yet to learn that anybody else did,--that there even existed facts unfavourable to him. Something, however, told Hicks that mention of the common enemy would result from this present meeting, and the other's last word brought the danger, if danger it might be, a step nearer. Clement hesitated before replying to the question; then he answered it. "Chris Blanchard," he said shortly, "though that won't interest you." "But it does--a good deal. I've wondered, some time, why I didn't hear my own brother was going to marry her. He got struck all of a heap there, to my certain knowledge. However, he 's escaped. The Lord be good to you, and I take my advice to marry back again. Think twice, if she's made of the same stuff as her brother." "No, by God! Is the moon made of the same stuff as the marsh lights?"