s in un
first'; an' t'other nodded when he said it."

Having now attested his regard for the master of Newtake, Sam jogged
off. He was pleased with himself, proud of having silenced more than one
detractor, and as his little brain turned the matter over, his lips
parted in a grin.

Coomstock meanwhile had limped into the cottage where Clement lived with
his mother. He did not garble his news, for it needed no artistic touch;
and, with nice sense of his perfect and effective instrument, he
realised the weapon was amply sharp enough without whetting, and
employed the story as it came into his hand. But Mr. Coomstock was a
little surprised and disappointed at his cousin's reserve and
self-restraint. He had hoped for a hearty outburst of wrath and the
assurance of wide-spreading animosity, yet no such thing happened, and
the talebearer presently departed in some surprise. Mrs. Hicks, indeed,
had shrilled forth a torrent of indignation upon the sole subject equal
to raising such an emotion in her breast, for Clem was her only son. The
man, however, took it calmly, or appeared to do so; and even when
Charles Coomstock was gone he refused to discuss the matter more.

But had his cousin, with Asmodeus-flight, beheld Clement during the
subsequent hours which he spent alone, it is possible that the
wheelwright had felt amply repaid for his trouble. Not until dawn stole
grey along the village street; not until sparrows in the thatch above
him began their salutation to the morning; not until Chagford rookery
had sent forth a harmonious multitude to the hills and valleys did
Clement's aching eyes find sleep. For hours he tossed and turned, now
trembling with rage, now prompted by some golden thread in the tangled
mazes of his mind to discredit the thing reported. Blanchard, as it
seemed, had come deliberately and maliciously between him and an
opportunity to win work. He burnt to know what he should do; and, like a
flame of forked light against the sombre background of his passion, came
the thought of another who hated Blanchard too. Will's secret glowed and
gleamed like the writing on the wall; looking out, Hicks saw it stamped
on the dark earth and across the starry night; and he wished to God that
the letters might so remain to be read by the world when it wakened.
Finally he slept and dreamed that he had been to the Red House, that he
had spoken to John Grimbal, and returned home again with a bag of gold.

When his mother ca