“You’ll often see hounds in full cry—’tis a noble sight.”
But Minnie was examining the larder.
She spent an hour in the cottage, and no experienced housewife could have shown more judgment and care. Then, much to Daniel’s satisfaction, his sweetheart decided for Hangman’s Hut.
“But I wish you could get it for five shillings a week, instead of six, Dan.”
“No, no, I can’t beat Beer down. He’m too good a neighbour, an’ ’twould never do to begin with a difference of opinion. Six ban’t too much. An’ I’m to get twenty shillings wages after Christmas. You always forget that. There’ll be tons of money.”
Mrs Beer greeted them on their return to the Warren Inn. She was a plain, careworn soul who let her poultry get upon her nerves and take the place of children as a source of anxiety. In her sleep she often cried out about laying hens and foxes; but everybody knew her for the best creature on Dartmoor. The women talked together and the men drank. Then Daniel prepared to start, and soon he and Minnie were jogging home under the dusk of night. Dartmoor stretched vast and formless round about them, and Minnie discussed second-hand furniture. She held that carpets were a luxury not to be named; but Daniel insisted upon one in the parlour.
“For our bedroom,” he said, “I’ve got six jolly fine mats made of skins. One’s a badger’s, an’ one’s a foxhound’s, an’ three be made out of a horse’s skin, an’ one’s that old collie as I used to have. There was a touch of Gordon setter in him; an’ a very pretty mat for your little feet he’ll make. An’ proud he’d be if he knowed it, poor old devil.”
“They’ll do very nice if the moth don’t get in them,” said Minnie.
Then, weary of sordid details, Dan let his girl take the whip and reins; and while she drove he cuddled her.