Jeremy looked at Jane.
"If I hadn't forgot!" he said. "We met Billy Marydrew back-along, outside his house, and he was just come from his daughter. She's dead, and he was very wisht about it."
"Dead!" said Margery. "Poor Mercy gone!"
"Yes, and William wanted it to be told here, and hoped that Mr. Bullstone would step over," added Jane.
"You ought to have told me before," declared Jacob. "That man is a dear old friend of mine. The sanest, biggest-hearted soul that ever I knew, and much to me ever since I was a child. He'll think I'm hanging back, just because you bird-witted people forgot to tell me."
He rose, but spoke again before he departed.
"Mercy Marydrew was a huckster. She went round in her little cart and collected butter, eggs and poultry from the farms for Plymouth market. And to market she went with her baskets, every Friday of her life for thirty years. Now think of it, Jeremy. How if you did her job round about, and Jane went to market."
"To drive about in the open air! The dream of my life!" said Jeremy.
"You always say it's the dream of your life, when a new opening is found for you," laughed his sister.
"Think of it seriously," urged Jacob. "This also means that Owley Cot, my little house by Owley Farm, is on my hands, and there you'll be in the heart of your job with the farms all around you. But it's up to Jane more than you. Whether she'll make a good market-woman is the question. Now I must be gone for an hour and see that poor chap. This will hit him harder than he thinks for. I'll be back before you leave."