"It's a long time to remember anything; but I've not forgot neither. How's my brother, Jeremy, treating you?"
Adam laughed.
"New brooms sweep clean; but he's made a great start, and don't he look a pretty picture in his trap? Up he comes, punctual as postman, every Thursday afternoon for the butter and eggs. Long may it last."
"And Jane's suited too—so far. She gets off to Plymouth market on Friday morning, and has done very clever indeed up to now."
"It was a great start in life for them, and like your husband to give it. A wonderful good thing to do. Jeremy knows his luck I hope. But there—Providence cares for the sparrows, though it over-looks the starlings in a hard winter. Jacob's a good un, Margery."
"So he is then—good as gold."
"And heavy as gold—so a man answered, when I said that very thing about Bullstone not a month ago. But I withstood him there. He's not heavy—only a self-centred man. And why not? With a home and a wife and children and a business, all packed up in the valley so snug and prosperous, why shouldn't he be self-centred? Why does he want to be anything else?"
She shook her head.
"It's narrow for a man," she answered, "and I often wish he'd go in the world more, and welcome the world at Red House for that matter."
"I'm looking at it from his point of view—not yours," replied Adam. "For the minute I was seeing his side. He's not one for neighbouring with people, and I say he don't lose much, because his business don't call for a wide knowledge of humans. He's in clover. He's got a very fine strain of dogs and the people know it and have to give a good price for a good article. So he's not like a farmer, who must make the best he can of open markets and competition. He's all right. But I quite grant it's not just the life you'd choose, because you're a sociable creature. You like fresh faces and new voices and new opinions and new gowns; and if I'd been your husband, you'd have had most of those things anyway."