"Get you gone, you mouldy rascal! Go to your vermin and foul the air no more."
The mole-catcher smiled and put on his hat.
"I'll go," he said, "since you be too great a man to breathe alongside of me. Good evening to your honour; an' my duty to you."
Then he made his exit, singing:
"A ha'penny for a rook;
A penny for a jay;
A noble for a fox;
An' twelvepence for a gray!"
It was the tariff of his trade, and he sang the words aloud at all seasons and in all company.
Nobody spoke after Malherb's explosion; but a moment afterwards he grew calm again, finished his liquor, and prepared to depart.
"Come with your papers on Monday week to Tor Royal. And now drink success to Fox Tor Farm, and when next you hear of Maurice Malherb, remember that the devil is not so black as he is painted."
He flung half a crown upon the counter and went his way, while the men in eager concert cried, "So us will, your honour!" "Long life an' fortune to your honour!" and "Good luck to Fox Tor Farm!"
When Malherb was gone they discussed the matter, and no emotion but a very active interest marked their attitude.