ch Blanchard. Ship recognised it
before Will's eyes enabled him to do so, and the dog rose from a long
rest, stretched, sniffed the air, then trotted off to the approaching
newcomer.

It was Ted Chown; and in five minutes he reached his master with a
letter. "'Tis from Miller Lyddon," he said. "It comed by the auctioneer.
I thought you was up here."

Blanchard took it without thanks, waited until the labourer had
departed, then opened the letter with some slight curiosity.

He read a page of scriptural quotations and admonitions, then tore the
communication in half with a curse and flung it from him. But presently
his anger waned; he rose, picked up his father-in-law's note, and
plodded through it to the end.

His first emotion was one of profound thanksgiving that he had done so.
Here, at the very end of the letter, was the practical significance of
it.

"Powder fust, jam arter, by God!" cried Will aloud. Then a burst of
riotous delight overwhelmed him. Once again in his darkest hour had
Fortune turned the wheel. He shouted, put the letter into his breast
pocket, rose up and strode off to Chagford as fast as his legs would
carry him. He thought what his mother and wife would feel upon such
news. Then he swore heartily--swore down blessings innumerable on Miller
Lyddon, whistled to his dog, and so journeyed on.

The master of Monks Barton had reproved Will through long pages, cited
Scripture at him, displayed his errors in a grim procession, then
praised him for his prompt and manly conduct under the present
catastrophe, declared that his character had much developed of recent
years, and concluded by offering him five-and-thirty shillings a week at
Monks Barton, with the only stipulation that himself, his wife, and the
children should dwell at the farm.

Praise, of which he had received little enough for many years, was pure
honey to Will. From the extremity of gloom and from a dark and settled
enmity towards Mr. Lyddon, he passed quicker than thought to an opposite
condition of mind.

"'Tis a fairy story--awnly true!" he said to himself as he swept along.

Will came near choking when he thought of the miller. Here was a man
that believed in him! Newtake tumbled clean out of his mind before this
revelation of Mr. Lyddon's trust and confidence. He was full to the
brainpan with Monks Barton. The name rang in his ears. Before he reached
Chagford he had planned innumerable schemes for developing the valley
farm,