"Life's a stormy voyage—without no harbour—for him," said Huggins. "I don't speak disrespectfully of Mrs. Weekes—very far from it—she's a born wonder; but one of the sort built for wild weather. She likes it; she'd droop if everything went smooth."
"Everything do go smooth," said Jarratt.
"She is like a stately vessel that casts up foam from its prow," declared the schoolmaster. "Mrs. Weekes is a lesson to Lydford, as I have always maintained, and always shall do."
The husband of the stately vessel appeared at this moment.
"Be blessed if I didn't miss the door," he said. "Never remember such a fog. 'Twill be blind man's buff to-morrow."
He sighed and came to the fire.
"Have a drink, father," said Jarratt, as to an inferior. But Philip shook his head.
"Not yet, Jar, thank 'e. I must get a thought warmer first. I'll smoke my pipe a bit."
"Down on his luck he is to-day," explained the younger Weekes. "Down on his luck—because he don't know his luck—eh, father?"
Philip did not answer; conversation became general, and the castle-keeper departed.