To sum up, Bob stayed.  She offered him wages and he took them.  Twenty-five shillings a week and his keep he got out of her after the lambing season, for with the sheep he proved a fair wonder same as he done with everything else.  And nothing was a trouble.  For a fortnight the man never slept, save a nod now and again in the house on wheels, where he dwelt in the valley among the ewes.  And old shepherds, with all the will to flout him, was tongue-tied afore the man, because of his excellent skill and far-reaching knowledge.

Mary called him “my bailiff,” and was terrible proud of him; and he accepted the position, and always addressed her as “Ma’am” afore the hands, though “Miss Blake” in private.  And in fulness of time, he called her “Miss Mary.”  The first time he went so far as that, she came running to me all in a twitter; but I could see she liked it at heart.  She got to trust him a lot, and though I warned her more than once, it weren’t easy to say anything against a man like Battle—­as steady as you please, never market-merry, and always ready for church on Sundays.

When I got to know him pretty well, I put it to him plain.  One August day it was, when we were going up to Princetown on our ponies to hear tell about the coming fair.

“What’s your game, Bob?” I asked the man.  “I’m not against you,” I said, “and I’m not for you.  But you was blowed out of a snow storm remember, and we’ve only got your word for it that you’re a respectable man.”

“I never said I was respectable,” he answered me, “but since you ask, I’ll be plain with you, Rupert Blake.  ’Tis true I was a soldier and done my duty and fought under Lord Roberts.  But I didn’t like it, and hated being wounded and was glad to quit.  And after that I kept a shop of all sorts on Salisbury Plain, till I lost all my little money.  Then I took up farm labourer’s work for a good few years, and tried to get in along with the people at a farm.  But they wouldn’t promise me nothing certain for my old age, so I left them and padded the country a bit.  And I liked tramping, owing to the variety.  And I found I could sing well enough to get a bed and supper most times; and for three years I kept at it and saw my native country:  towns in winter it was, and villages in summer.  I was on my way to Plymouth when I dropped into Holne, and Mr. Churchward offered me a bob if I’d travel to Little Sherberton.  And when I arrived there, and saw how it was, I made up my mind that it would serve my turn very nice.  Then I set out to satisfy your sister and please her every way I could, because I’m too old now for the road, and would sooner ride than walk, and sooner sleep in a bed than under a haystack.”

“You fell into a proper soft thing,” I said; but he wouldn’t allow that.