"It's no use kicking over the traces," said Mr. Benbow, laughing. "I've found that out long ago. Sarah is a tyrant."
But it was evidently a tyranny which suited him very well, for there seemed to be a kind of settled happiness between the host and hostess of the Green Dragon. Some such thought passed through Hieronymus' mind as he gulped down the beef-tea, and then started off happily with Joan.
"I like both the Benbows," he said to her. "And it is very soothing to be with people who are happy together. I'm cozily housed there, and not at all sorry to have had my plans altered by the gypsies; especially now that I can go on with my work so comfortably. My friends in Wales may wait for me as long as they choose."
Joan would have wished to tell him how glad she was that he was going to stay. But she just smiled happily. He was so bright himself that it was impossible not to be happy in his company.
"I'm so pleased I have done some dictating to-day," he said, as he plucked an autumn leaf and put it into his buttonhole. "And now I can enjoy myself all the more. You cannot think how I do enjoy the country. These hills are so wonderfully soothing. I never remember being in a place where the hills have given me such a sense of repose as here. Those words constantly recur to me:
'His dews drop mutely on the hill,
His cloud above it saileth still,
(Though on its slopes men sow and reap).
More softly than the dew is shed,
Or cloud is floated overhead,
He giveth His beloved sleep.'
"It's all so true, you know, and yonder are the slopes cultivated by men. I am always thinking of these words here. They match with the hills and they match with my feelings."
"I have never thought about the hills in that way," she said.
"No," he answered kindly, "because you are not tired yet. But when you are tired, not with imaginary battlings, but with the real campaigns of life, then you will think about the dews falling softly on the hills."
"Are you tired, then?" she asked.