According to modern ideas of courtesy, Mrs. Malherb and her daughter were somewhat slighted during the progress of dinner; but women listened more and talked less a hundred years ago than now. Annabel saw that Peter's plate and glass were kept full, chatted with her daughter, laughed at her husband's jests, and departed to the drawing-room as soon as the table was cleared. Then Kekewich deposited two silver candlesticks and a pair of silver snuffers within reach of his master, produced a dish of dry walnuts, and tenderly stationed a bottle of port at the elbow of each gentleman.
"I know you're only a one-bottle man, and you are wise at your age," said Malherb. "Indeed, I seldom do more myself, save on rare occasions, and never except during the hunting season."
"I hope you'll account for two bottles upon the day I marry Mistress Grace," answered Peter. "She grows an angel. Never beamed such radiant beauty.
"'Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do intreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.'
But I wish they would twinkle for me."
"To-morrow she is seventeen—God bless her! They are my heart and my soul—she and my son. But she's yours, Norcot, for I've said it. She shall reign over your place at Chagford. Her welfare is my first care in this world. Now leave that. Let our talk be about sheep. I have discovered that Dartmoor is the best sheep-walk in the kingdom. We shall have such wool for you next year as will make you generous against your will. Already I'm treating for certain three-year-old Dartmoor wethers that'll shear nine pounds of unwashed wool a fleece. Think of it! Take one shilling and threepence a pound and five hundred sheep—the result is nearly three hundred pounds of money in one year! Then I design to cross with the new Leicesters. Frankly, I see a large fortune within ten years. It can hardly be avoided."
Mr. Norcot nodded thoughtfully. He knew the farmer's figures were absurdly high, both in wool and money.
"You look so far ahead. I always envy you that gift of foresight. Yet, in sober honesty, you must not count to get more than a shilling a pound. If you could breed Merinos now."
"I've thought of that, too."
"Ah! I'll wager you have," said the merchant, with admiration. "What don't you think of, Mr. Malherb? 'Tis good to know that another man of ideas has come on Dartmoor."