“I mind the chap a few years back-along playing foot-ball to Tavistock. A well-set-up youth, ’bout my size, or maybe bigger in the bone. An’ he could play foot-ball, no doubt. In fact, a great hand at sporting of all sorts; but work—not likely! Why for should he? He’ll have oceans of money when his faither dies.” “Your mother reckons ’tis all moonshine ’bout his coming to Cross Ways to learn farming. She says that he’m sent here to keep him out of mischief—for same reason as powder-mills was sent here. He’ll ride about, an’ hunt, an’ shoot, for sartain. But he won’t never take sensible to work—so your mother reckons.” “Maybe he won’t; but faither be going to get two pound a week by him; so what he does ban’t no great odds, so long as he bides.” “Would you call him a gen’leman?” “Gentle is as gentle does. Us shall see.” “Wi’ book-larnin’, no doubt?” “Little enough, I fancy. Nought but a fool goes farmin’ in these days.” “Yet ’tis our hope, I’m sure,” objected Jane. “Please God, Dick, us will be able to take a little farm down in the country some day—won’t us?” “In the country—yes; but not ’pon this wilderness.” There was silence between them again, while the owl hooted and the river scattered silver in the rushes and babbled against the granite bridge. “Wonder what colour the chap’s eyes be, Dick?” “They’ll be black if I hear much more about him,” he answered shortly. “For I’ll darken both first day he comes here—just to show how we stand.” “You’re jealous afore you’ve seed him!” “An’ you’re a blamed sight too hungry to see him. Best drop him. He won’t be nought to you, I s’pose?” “How can you be so sharp, Dick? Ban’t it natural a gal what leads such a wisht life as me should think twice of a new face—an’ a gen’leman, too?” “Anthony Maybridge have got one enemy afore he shows his nose here; and you’re to thank for it.” Jane laughed. “Then I know what to expect when we’m married, I s’pose. But no call for you to be afeared! If he was so butivul as Angel Gabriel he’d be nought to me. Kiss me same as I kissed you just now.” But Dick was troubled. His clay pipe also drew ill, and he dashed it into the water. “Damn kissing!” he said; “I’m sick of it. Get home, an’ let me go to work.” “The young man will like you better than me, when all’s said, dear heart; for you’ll give him best sport of anybody in these parts.” He grunted, and left her without more words; while she, familiar with his sulky moods, showed no particular regret. To the hills he strode away, and the misty marshes swallowed up sight of him, while he threaded his road through the bogs, climbed great stony slopes under the hilltop, and reached his warren. But bad fortune stuck close to Richard that night, for of two fine rabbits snared since sundown, nothing remained but the heads.