"’Tis good to be back-along with you," she said, "and I do think, all ways, it must be better. Joshua be coming out wonderful and surprising father every day since you went; and Sophia will take my place; and Nap and Wellington, between them, will look after Joshua’s work with the traps. ’Tis all right but for Dorcas. There’s nobody left to keep her in order now I’m gone--hateful little toad! I axed father to set parson on her; but he wouldn’t. Something will have to be done, but I don’t know what." "I’ll see father later," replied David. "Dorcas be the first Bowden that’s a fool, and we must treat her according." They all supped together presently, and David planned the nature of the life before his sister. The course of laborious days did not spare her and left little margin for idleness; but Rhoda neither knew nor wished to know the meaning of leisure. She appeared well content with David’s plans and nodded from time to time, but said little. *CHAPTER VI* *REPULSE* At noon in early May, when the willow’s golden flowers ran up the still naked stems like fire; when the clouds in the sky were large and fleecy and the birds sang again from dawn till even, Bartley, walking beside the leat, where it wound like a silver ribbon between Lowery Tor and Lowery Farm, met Rhoda Bowden. Neither expected to see the other in that spot. She explained that she had been far afield with a message for her brother; he admitted that he walked there with no special object but to kill an hour. "How’s your mother?" she asked. "No better. I’m only here now till I know the doctor’s been. As soon as I see his gig drive up the hill, I shall go down across the river home. She vows ’tis nothing; but I think she’s worse than we know." "Summer may get up her nature again." "I’m sure I hope so too. And ’tis more than kind of you to cheer me up." He walked beside her. "May I give your dogs a sandwich?" he asked. "My aunt cut me a bit of bread and meat to fetch along with me; but I don’t want it." She nodded and Bartley divided his food between a fox-terrier and a collie. In a twinkling his luncheon vanished. They kept silence for a long time and she, astonished that he could be mute, addressed him. "David be going to show sheep at Tavistock this year." "Good luck to them then," he answered, wakening from his reverie. "Those horned creatures he has got look very fine and carry an amazing deal of wool--anybody can see that. I’m very much inclined to try a few myself. Must ask him all about them if he’ll be so kind as to tell me." "No doubt he would. He’s doing a bit of Moorman’s work now in the quarter, and looking after a good few things besides his own." "The Moorman, old Jonathan Dawe, is past his work, I doubt?"