as I catch the
eye of un an' see um beam 'pon me to church now an' again, I'm content
with things as they are."

"As a saved sawl you 'm in so braave a way as the best; but, to say it
without rudeness, as food for the land a man of your build be nought,
Gaffer," argued Mr. Chapple, who viewed the veteran's withered anatomy
from his own happy vantage ground of fifteen stone.

But Gaffer Lezzard would by no means allow this.

"Ban't quantity awnly tells, my son. 'T is the aluminium in a man's
bones that fats land--roots or grass or corn. Anybody of larnin', 'll
tell 'e that. Strip the belly off 'e, an', bone for bone, a lean man
like me shaws as fair as you. No offence offered or taken, but a gross
habit's mere clay and does more harm than gude underground."

Mr. Chapple in his turn resented this contemptuous dismissal of tissue
as matter of no agricultural significance. The old men went wrangling
home; Miller Lyddon and Billy retired to their beds; the moon departed
behind the distant moors; and all the darkened valley slept in snow and
starlight.

CHAPTER VIII

A BROTHERS' QUARREL

Though Phoebe was surprised at Will Blanchard's mild attitude toward her
weakness, she had been less so with more knowledge. Chris Blanchard and
her lover were in some degree responsible for Will's lenity, and
Clement's politic letter to the wanderer, when Phoebe's engagement was
announced, had been framed in words best calculated to shield the
Miller's sore-driven daughter. Hicks had thrown the blame on John
Grimbal, on Mr. Lyddon, on everybody but Phoebe herself. Foremost indeed
he had censured Will, and pointed out that his own sustained silence,
however high-minded the reason of it, was a main factor in his
sweetheart's sufferings and ultimate submission.

In answer to this communication Blanchard magically reappeared,
announced his determination to marry Phoebe by subterfuge, and, the deed
accomplished, take his punishment, whatever it might be, with light
heart. Given time to achieve a legal marriage, and Phoebe would at least
be safe from the clutches of millionaires in general.

Much had already been done by Will before he crept after the
apple-christeners and accomplished his meeting with Phoebe. A week was
passed since Clement wrote the final crushing news, and during that
interval Will had been stopping with his uncle, Joel Ford, at Newton
Abbot. Fate, hard till now, played him passing fair at last. The old
Sup