"For another year you shall have your way, Miss. Then—— I have said it. Then comes the pinch, and somebody will have to learn the duty of a child to its parent."
"I'll not marry with Peter—never," she said quietly. "He's no man—a mere walking, talking chatterbox—a packman, with nonsensical rags and tags of rhymes and jests for his stock-in-trade. He would drive me mad with his borrowed wit."
"We shall see," said Malherb. "His wit may be borrowed; his wealth is his own. Now go you and get a bottle of the Burgundy. We'll not argue—we love one another too dearly."
But though he spoke calmly, his mood changed, and the infernal temper that cursed his life, and lurked in his warm, big heart like a wasp in a rose, broke forth. He heard the dismal tale of the drowned pigs, dashed out of doors with his horsewhip, and roared for the lad Robert. When Grace returned with his wine, her father had disappeared; her mother, grown white and careworn suddenly, stood by the window.
Shrieks echoed through the autumn gloaming and rang against the walls of the farm; while, round a corner, the unfortunate youth whose errors were responsible for his master's loss lifted up a bitter voice and yelled for mercy under the lash.
"That'll teach you, you idle scoundrel! If you'd been drowned, none would have cared a curse. But my pigs—there, and there, and there; and never show your ugly face to me again, or I'll——"
Bob fled howling, and through a night of smart and sleeplessness wriggled in much misery. But only the present suffering of his back troubled him, for he knew what day would bring as surely as it brought the sun.
He met his master going the rounds before breakfast, and touched his hat and fell into a great simulated lameness; whereon Malherb gave him "Good morning" and threw him a shilling.
"Mind the pigs closer henceforth, you vagabond," he said; then added to himself as he saw the boy's rueful countenance, "and I will mind my temper closer, please God."
Kekewich appeared from a barn as the shilling was picked up.