"But we don't brew so strong as what you do," added young Bowden.
"This is far too strong," declared Mrs. Stanbury, instantly. "It have stood over long, and the bitter be drawed out."
"That's my fault for being late," answered Margaret. "No fault of yours, mother."
"I like the bitter," said Bart. "'Tis pretty drinking and proper to work on. Cider isn't in it with cold tea."
Dusk gathered, and the firelight flickered in the little whitewashed kitchen. Then David mentioned a project near his hopes.
"You thought you'd found a fox's earth 'pon Coombeshead Tor," he said to Madge.
"I do think so; and if you've made an end of eating, us'll go an' see afore 'tis dark."
"I've finished, and very much obliged, I'm sure."
David rose, picked up his felt hat and bade the parent Stanburys "good-evening." Then he and Margaret went out together. Bart prepared to accompany them, when suddenly, as if shot, he sank down into his chair again beside his father and put his hand to his chin.
"Why for did 'e kick me, faither?" he asked when the lovers had disappeared.