"You really alarm me this time," said Castleton.
Granfa braced himself by swallowing a large mouthful of pasty and delivered his poser almost reverently.
"Can you tell me, mister, in what county o' Scotland is John o' Groats?"
"Caithness, I think," said Castleton.
Granfa coughed violent appreciation and thumped on the table in amazement.
"Hark, all you men and maidens down to the end of the table! I've asked that question in Cornwall, and I've asked that question in Australia. I've asked Scotchmen even, and I'm a brae old man now. But there wasn't one who could speak the answer till—till——" he paused, before the Cornish title of affection and respect—"Cap'n Castleton here spoke it straight away at once. Wish you well, my dear son," he added in a voice rich with emotion, as he thrust an open hand over a bowl of cream for Castleton's grip.
Then Granfa told his old intimate tales of wrecks and famous seines of fish, and even went so far as to offer to show Castleton on the very next morning the corner of a field where with two legs and a stick he could stand in the three parishes of Trenoweth, Nancepean and Trewinnard. In fact he monopolized the guest throughout the meal, and expressed very great regret when Castleton had to return to the One and All Inn.
Trewhella questioned Jenny sharply that night about the stranger, tried with all the fox in his nature to find out what part he had played in her life.
"He's a friend of mine," she said.
"Did he ever come courting 'ee?"