“Will!  It’s not reasonable, it’s not fair—­us working so hard an’—­an’—­”

“They ’m to have it, anyway.”

Her breath caught in a little, helpless gasp.  Without a word she picked up the material in her hands, huddled it up, and thrust it across the table towards him.  Then the passion faded out of his face, his eyes softened and grew dreamy, he smiled, and rubbed his brown cheek with the flannel.

“My awn, li’l clever woman, as have set about the fashioning of a bairn so soon!  God bless ‘e, an’ bless ‘e an’ be gude to ‘e, an’ the wee thing coming!”

He put his arm round her and patted her hair and purred softly to her; whereupon she relented and kissed him.

“You knaw best, Will, dearie; you nearly allus knaw best; but your heart’s bigger ‘n your pocket—­an’ a li’l child do call so loud for the spendin’ o’ money.”

“Aye, I knaw, I knaw; ’tis a parent’s plaace to stand up for his offspring through fire an’ water; an’ I reckon I won’t be the worst faither as ever was, either.  I can mind the time when I was young myself.  Stern but kind’s the right rule.  Us’ll bring un up in the proper way, an’ teach un to use his onderstandin’ an’ allus knuckle down ’fore his elders.  To tell ’e truth, Phoebe, I’ve a notion I might train up a cheel better’n some men.”

“Yes, Will, I think so, tu.  But ‘tis food an’ clothes an’ li’l boots an’ such-like comes first.  A hunderd pounds be such a mort o’ money.”

“’Twill set ’em up in a fair way.”

“Fifty wouldn’t hardly do, p’r’aps?”

“Hardly.  I like to carry a job through clean an’ vitty while I’m on it.”

“You’ve got such a big spirit.”

“As to that, money so spent ban’t lost—­’tis all in the fam’ly.”

“Of course ’tis a gude advertisement for you.  Folk’ll think you’m prosperin’ an’ look up to you more.”

“Well, some might, though I doan’t ’zactly mean it like that.  Yet the putting out o’ three figures o’ money must make neighbours ope their eyes.  Not that I want anybody to knaw either.”

So, against her judgment, Phoebe was won over, and presently she and her husband made merry at prospect of the great thing contemplated.  Will imitated Clement’s short, glum, and graceless manner before the gift; Phoebe began to spend the money and plan the bee-keeper’s cottage when Chris should enter it as a bride; and thus, having enjoyed an hour of delight the most pure and perfect that can fall to human lot, the young couple retired.

Elsewhere defeat and desolation marked the efforts of the luckless poet to improve his position.  All thoughts drifted towards the Red House, and when, struggling from this dark temptation, he turned to Martin Grimbal rather than his brother, Fate crushed this hope also.  The antiquary was not in Chagford, and Clement recollected that Martin had told him he designed some visits to the doom rings of Iceland, and other contemporary remains of primeval man in Brittany and in Ireland.  To find him at present was impossible, for he had left no address, and his housekeeper only knew that he would be out of England until the autumn.