the boundaries of the estate and
mingled their branches with others not more stately though sprung from
the nobler domain of Whiddon; and Chagford was distant but a mile, or
five minutes' ride.

Tongues wagged that evening concerning the Red House, as the ruin was
called, and a question arose as to whom John Grimbal must apply for
information respecting the property.

"I noted on the board two names--one in London, one handy at Newton
Abbot--a Mr. Joel Ford, of Wolborough Street."

Phoebe blushed where she sat and very nearly said, "My Will's uncle!"
but thought better of it and kept silent. Meanwhile her father answered.

"Ford's an attorney, Mrs. Blanchard's brother, a maker of agreements
between man and man, and a dusty, dry sort of chip, from all I've heard
tell. His father and mine were friends forty years and more agone. Old
Ford had Newtake Farm on the Moor, and wore his fingers to the bone that
his son might have good schooling and a learned profession."

"He's in Chagford this very minute," said Phoebe.

Then Mr. Blee spoke. On the occasion of any entertainment at Monks
Barton he waited at table instead of eating with the family as usual.
Now he addressed the company from his station behind Mr. Lyddon's chair.

"Joel Ford's biding with his sister. A wonderful deep man, to my certain
knowledge, an' wears a merchant-like coat an' shiny hat working days an'
Sabbaths alike. A snug man, I'll wager, if 't is awnly by the token of
broadcloth on week-days."

"He looks for all the world like a yellow, shrivelled parchment himself.
Regular gimlet eyes, too, and a very fitch for sharpness, though younger
than his appearance might make you fancy," said the miller.

"Then I'll pay him a visit and see how things stand," declared John.
"Not that I'd employ any but my own London lawyer, of course," he added,
"but this old chap can give me the information I require; no doubt."

"Ess fay! an' draw you a dockyment in all the cautiousness of the law's
language," promised Billy Blee. "'T is a fact makes me mazed every time
I think of it," he continued, "that mere fleeting ink on the skin tored
off a calf can be so set out to last to the trump of doom. Theer be
parchments that laugh at the Queen's awn Privy Council and make the
Court of Parliament look a mere fule afore 'em. But it doan't do to be
'feared o' far-reachin' oaths when you 'm signing such a matter, for 't
is in the essence of 'em that the parties should swear