urban stranger guess how the dark line grew
without visible means on the arable ground under Gidleigh.

From these dangerous thoughts he was roused by the sight of a woman
struggling up the steep hill towards him. The figure came slowly on, and
moved with some difficulty. This much Hicks noted, and then suddenly
realised that he beheld his mother. She knew his haunt and doubtless
sought him now. Rising, therefore, he hastened to meet her and shorten
her arduous climb. Mrs. Hicks was breathless when Clement reached her,
and paused a while, with her hand pressed to her side, before she could
speak. At length she addressed him, still panting between the syllables.

"My heart's a pit-pat! Hurry, hurry, for the Lard's sake! The bees be
playin'[9] an' they'll call Johnson if you ban't theer directly minute!"

[9] _Playing_ = swarming.

Johnson, a thatcher, was the only other man in Chagford who shared any
knowledge of apiarian lore with Clement.

"Sorry you should have had the journey only for that, mother. 'Twas so
unlikely a morning, I never thought to hear of a swarm to-day. I'll
start at once, and you go home quietly. You're sadly out of breath.
Where is it?"

"To the Red House--Mr. Grimbal's. It may lead to the handlin' of his
hives for all us can say, if you do the job vitty, as you 'm bound to."

"John Grimbal's!"

Hicks stood still as though this announcement had turned him into stone.

"Ess fay! Why do 'e stand glazin' like that? A chap rode out for 'e 'pon
horseback; an' a bit o' time be lost a'ready. They 'm swarmin' in the
orchard, an' nobody knaws more 'n the dead what to be at."

"I won't go. Let them get Johnson."

"'Won't go'! An' five shillin' hangin' to it, an' Lard knaws what more
in time to come! 'Won't go'! An' my poor legs throbbin' something cruel
with climbin' for 'e!"

"I--I'm not going there--not to that man. I have reason."

"O my gude God!" burst out the old woman, "what'll 'e do next? An'
me--as worked so hard to find 'e--an' so auld as I am! Please, please,
Clem, for your mother--please. Theer's bin so little money in the house
of late days, an' less to come. Doan't, if you love me, as I knaws well
you do, turn your back 'pon the scant work as falls in best o' times."

The man reflected with troubled eyes, and his mother took his arm and
tried to pull him down the hill.

"Is John Grimbal at home?" he asked.

"How shude I knaw? An' what matter if he is? Your business is with