The imperious farmer had a whim to keep his wife and daughter away from their future home until it should be ready to receive them; and since they were wholly ignorant of the great table-land, the contrast between Fox Tor with its adjacencies and the meadow farm by Exe was destined to come upon both women with a force almost bewildering. Even to the thin voices of the labouring men, their chastened outlook upon life and their estimate of happiness, all was changed. The attitude of Annabel and Grace Malherb upon this radical transformation will appear. From agricultural failure and depression in the valleys they were at least well contented to escape. On an autumn day they walked and talked together upon a meadow path by the river. Maurice Malherb was returning from the Moor for a while to look after his business, and here his wife and daughter waited for him. "That your father has built a house is well," declared Mrs. Malherb, "for, come what may to his many projects, an abiding place of our own will be a source of peace to me." "And no more coal bills!" cried Grace. "Father has said that we shall dig our coal out of the earth within sight of home." "'Tis peat he means--a very good form of warmth--yet I doubt for the cooking." "Barbara would have made shift with it. Oh, mother, what shall we do without her?" "I cannot guess yet." "To think of all new servants--all new--but that horrid old Kek!" Mrs. Malherb smiled. "Kekewich is a sort of skeleton at life's feast. The sour truth and nothing but the truth he utters. Yet truth's a tonic, and your father knows it." "Truth is often very impertinent--especially as Kek tells it. If any other man spoke to father as he does, he would soon be measuring his length on the ground." "It shows my husband's marvellous judgment that Kekewich never angers him." "To me the man is merely a piece of earth animated. Such stuff would never have grown a good cabbage, so some wicked fairy took it and made Kek. I'm sure he'll be a wet blanket on hope, and, according to father, the mists are wet blankets enough up there." "Kekewich suffers much pain of body, and it makes him harsh. He is an honest man, and your father gets good out of him. That is enough for us. He is at least the soul of common sense." But Grace shook her head. "'Tis no more common sense to look always on the dark side of things than, like dear father, to be over-hopeful." "The golden mean----" murmured her mother. "Rainbow gold," answered the girl. "Human nature cannot find it. What----? But here comes Kek himself. He looks spry and peart for once. That bodes trouble for somebody."