ted how the flutter of
past tears shook her round young breast, marked the spring of her step,
the freedom of her gait, and the trim turn of her feet and ankles. After
the flat-footed Kaffir girls, Phoebe's instep had a right noble arch in
his estimation.

"To think that I, as never wronged faither in thought or deed, should be
treated so hard! I've been all the world to him since mother died, for
he's said as much to many; yet he's risen up an' done this, contrary to
justice and right and Scripture, tu."

"You must be patient, Phoebe, and respect his age, and let the matter
rest till the time grows ripe. I can't advise you better than that."

"'Patient!' My life's empty, I tell 'e--empty, hollow, tasteless wi'out
my Will."

"Well, well, we'll see. I'm going to build a big red-brick house
presently, and buy land, and make a bit of a stir in my small way.
You've a pretty fancy in such things, I'll bet a dollar. You shall give
me a helping hand--eh? You must tell me best way of setting up house.
And you might help me as to furniture and suchlike if you had time for
it. Will you, for an old friend?"

Phoebe was slightly interested. She promised to do anything in her power
that might cause Mr. Grimbal satisfaction; and he, very wisely, assured
her that there was no salve for sorrow like unselfish labours on behalf
of other people. He left her at the farm-gate, and tramped back to the
Blanchard cottage with his mind busy enough. Presently he changed his
clothes, and set a diamond in his necktie. Then he strolled away into
the village, to see the well-remembered names above the little shop
windows; to note curiously how Chagford market-place had shrunk and the
houses dwindled since last he saw them; to call with hearty voice and
rough greeting at this habitation and that; to introduce himself again
among men and women who had known him of yore, and who, for the most
part, quite failed to recognise in their bluff and burly visitor the lad
who set forth from his father's cottage by the church so many years
before.

CHAPTER V

THE INCIDENT OF MR. JOEL FORD

Of Blanchard family history a little more must be said. Timothy
Blanchard, the husband of Damaris and father of Will and Chris, was in
truth of the nomads, though not a right gypsy. As a lad, and at a time
when the Romany folk enjoyed somewhat more importance and prosperity
than of late years, he joined them, and by sheer force of character and
mother wit s