"He do--poor fellow! He's out there. It don't promise nothing and won't yield nothing. They bogs have swallowed a long sight more solid money than anybody will ever dig up out of 'em again; and 'twould be well for Greg's peace of mind if he could see it; but he won't. He goes messing about with his bottles and bellows, and gets gas and tar out of the stuff, and makes such a fuss, as though he'd found diamonds; but 'tis all one. Peat's good, but coal's better, and God A'mighty meant it to be. You can't turn peat into coal, or hurry up nature. She won't be hurried, and there's an end of it." "He've got a fine darter, seemingly." Mr. Prout laughed. "Ah! you met her--eh? Yes, she's a proper maiden--a regular wonder in her way--so open, and clear-minded as a bird. Never yet heard a girl speak so frank--'tis like a child more than what you'd expect from a grown-up woman. But ban't she lovely in her Sunday frill-de-dills! I was up over last spring, and drinked a dish of tea with 'em. Lucky the chap as gets her--bachelor though I am, I say it." "Be she tokened?" "A good few's after her, I believe; but there's only one in the running. I mean Jarratt Weekes to Lydford--the castle keeper there." "I know the man--why, he's old!" "Doan't you say that. 'Tis hard thing for my ears to hear. If he's old at forty, what be I at sixty-five? I won't let nobody say I'm old, Daniel!" "Old for her, I mean. There must be best part of twenty year between 'em." "It often works very well an' keeps down the family." "Can't fancy her along with that man." "She won't ax your leave, my son. But her father's rather of your mind, I fancy. Gregory never did like Jarratt Weekes--nor any of the Weekes breed, for that matter. Jarratt was spoiled as a child. He'm the only son of his parents, and more hard than soft--just as you would expect the child of Hepsy Weekes to be. She's stamped herself upon him." "Us'll be late for dinner if us talk any more; though what you tell me is very interesting," answered Brendon. CHAPTER V THE KEEPER OF THE CASTLE