or his mother, who drank a little with
her supper, and helped himself liberally twice or thrice until the
bottle was half emptied. The glamour of the spirit made him optimistic,
and he spoke with the pseudo-philosophy that alcohol begets.

"Might have been worse, come to think of it. If the things weren't
choked, I doubt they'd been near starved. 'Most all the hay's done, an'
half what's left--a load or so--I'd promised to a chap out Manaton way.
But theer't is--my hand be forced, that's all. So time's saved, if you
look at it from a right point."

"You'm hard an' braave, an' you've got a way with you 'mong men. Faace
life, same as faither did, an' us'll look arter Phoebe an' the childer,"
said Chris.

"I couldn't leave un," declared Will's wife. "'T is my duty to keep
along wi'un for better or worse."

"Us'll talk 'bout all that later. I be gwaine to act prompt an' sell
every stick, an' then away, a free man."

"All our furniture an' property!" moaned Phoebe, looking round her in
dismay.

"All--to the leastest bit o' cracked cloam."

"A forced sale brings nought," sighed Damaris.

"Theer's hunderds o' pounds o' gude chattels here, an' they doan't go
for a penny less than they 'm worth. Because I'm down, ban't no reason
for others to try to rob me. If I doan't get fair money I'll make a fire
wi' the stuff an' burn every stick of it."

"The valuer man, Mr. Bambridge, must be seen, an' bills printed out an'
sticked 'pon barn doors an' such-like, same as when Mrs. Lezzard died,"
said Phoebe. "What'll faither think then?"

Will laughed bitterly.

"I'll see a few's dabbed up on his awn damned outer walls, if I've got
to put 'em theer myself. An' as to the lists, I'll make 'em this very
night. Ban't my way to let the dust fall upon a job marked for doin'.
To-night I'll draw the items."

"Us was gwaine to stay along with 'e, Will," said his mother.

"Very gude--as you please. Make shake-downs in the parlour, an' I'll
write in the kitchen when you'm gone to bed. Set the ink an' pen an'
paper out arter you've cleared away. I'm allowed to be peart enough in
matters o' business anyway, though no farmer o' course, arter this."

"None will dare to say any such thing," declared Phoebe. "You can't do
miracles more than others."

"I mind when Ellis, to Two Streams Farm, lost a mort o' bullocks very
same way," said Mrs. Blanchard.

"'Tis that as they'll bring against me an' say, wi' such a tale in my
knawledge, I ou