She looked at a gold watch on a thin gold chain, then paced to a gate a few yards distant and regarded the roof of a farm that rose under the flank of Shipley Tor.
"I wonder how Miss Winter and Adam and Samuel are settling in," she said. "A bit lonesome after Five Elms, and a poor place, so the last man always declared."
"The last man would have made a poor place of any place," answered her husband. "He was always clever at picking the eyes out of a farm and then leaving it for a better than himself to build up again. And so it will be here; but Winter's got it at a very low rent, and he's a worker and may do well. His zany brother's a mighty worker also. The Lord denied wits, but gave him a strong body."
Mrs. Huxam continued to regard the roof of Shipley Farm without speaking.
"He's a man who'll come to Sunday meeting no matter how long the way," declared Barlow Huxam hopefully.
"And his sister too. One of the Chosen her, if ever a woman was chose," answered his wife.
Then Jeremy raised a shout and ran over the bridge.
"Here's Margery!" he cried.
The kennel-maid had put on a blue skirt, a straw hat with a white ribbon and a plain white blouse. Mr. Huxam rose, while his daughter, having kissed her brother, now greeted her parents.
"You're hot, you dear," she said to Mr. Huxam; but he declared that he was now cool again.