"No need to ask, I reckon. I'll tell him you've got a new hat, with a jay's feather in it. He couldn't shoot a jay for you, but I did."
"I'll lay he'll shoot a jay when he's got time," answered Avis.
"'Got time,'" sneered John Henry. "If I was after a maiden, I'd make time to shoot an elephant, if she wanted one."
They chattered and Avis was well pleased. Their talk drifted past Jacob where he sat. They did not notice that he ate no breakfast.
Time dragged dreadfully for the man and a letter from his wife did not shorten it. He half hoped that she would mention Winter; but Margery made no allusion to the farmer; and Bullstone knew that if she had mentioned him, he must still have read evil into the fact. He told himself that. Margery could not have met with Winter by an accident in a place so large as Plymouth. If she had met him, it was by design. He made himself believe that they had not met. But he intended to be sure, though he would not ask her. Margery's letter was frank enough and her time appeared to be fully engaged. She was feeling better and stronger. She sent directions for home and wrote of things to be told to the servant, to Avis and the boys. Auna was enjoying herself and loved to be on the sea.
Adam Winter would be coming back on Tuesday, according to Samuel; therefore Jacob invented a message for him and sent Peter to deliver it. But he returned to say that Mr. Winter had not come home. The calves duly arrived and were safe at Shipley; but Adam delayed for a few days, to make a longer holiday, as Miss Winter had suggested.
Bullstone battled in secret and came to a bitter conclusion. It was exceedingly unlikely that such a man as the master of Shipley would dawdle by the sea for his health's sake. Some far greater and more pressing reason kept him from home. Jacob raged over this, departed from himself and determined upon an action entirely foreign to his genius. He resolved to see Winter and challenge him. He planned to confront the man and woman when they returned and judge them out of their own mouths. But he knew, even while he designed such drastic deeds, that they would never happen.
Winter returned some days sooner than Margery was due to do so. She had, indeed, written a second letter to Jacob, asking if he would let her extend her holiday for three days at the entreaty of her uncle, who made a great favour of it. She apologised for the delay, but knew he would not mind. He raised no objection, and avoided Adam Winter, desiring now that he should first find whether Margery made any mention of him when she came home.
He drove to Brent and met his wife and daughter at the appointed time; and he found Margery well and in unusually cheerful spirits. Like every woman whose existence is subject to the tyranny of the passing hour, her nervous energy and temper had both gained tone from rest. But she declared herself as beyond measure delighted to be home again. Auna, too, was much more talkative than usual. She had brought her father and brothers and sister presents from Plymouth, and again and again declared her delight at the sea. Twice she had been upon it and seen a trawl shot and fish caught. But neither she nor her mother had anything to say of Adam Winter, and, after fighting with himself not to do so, Jacob took opportunity to question Auna when her mother was not present. It argued a new attitude and he suffered before sinking to it. Indeed for some time he resisted the temptation; but the thirsty desire to discover things possibly hidden conquered pride. He convinced himself that he must leave no channel unexplored and face every painful need to attain reality; while in truth he lived in a world of increasing unreality and his values steadily began to have less correspondence with fact.
Auna caused a passing revulsion, and his heart smote him before her ingenuous replies to the questions that he put. He asked for no direct revelation, but came to the matter sidelong and sought to know what his wife did for entertainment on the days that Auna went to sea. The child was apparently familiar with all that Margery had done on shore while they were separated; but the circumstantial account of her mother's doings, evidently related to Auna on her return, awoke new suspicions. For why should Margery have been at pains to tell the child so much and relate her doings so fully? Auna had not seen or heard of Mr. Winter. Jacob mentioned the fact that their neighbour was in Plymouth at the same time as the child and her mother; but he did not follow the statement with any direct question. He mentioned the coincidence as of no importance, and when Auna declared that she had not known it, added casually, "Mother did not see him, then?"