"Hullo!" he said. "Have 'e got a party?"
"'Tis your mother's ripe wisdom, Jar, as draws us men," answered Mr. Huggins.
"An' her ripe sloe gin, I reckon. Has anybody seed Mrs. Brendon? My wife tells me that she's in Lydford to-night."
"I seed her at tea-time," answered Philip. "She was going up to visit Billy Long's wife—her that broke her leg in the gorge last August."
"Then I'll go that way myself," declared the younger Weekes. "I want a word with her."
"Tell her to call here, then, please; 'tis a rough night. Us'll go home-along together," said John Prout.
"She don't want you," answered Hephzibah.
"I know that; but I want her. She's as strong as a man, and I ban't now, worse luck. Sarah Jane will give me an arm up over White Hill, where the wind will be blowing a hurricane to-night. I had to go down in a hurry to Little Lydford on foot, and I'm cruel weary."
Mrs. Weekes poured out a large wine-glass of cordial for him.
"How's Mr. Woodrow?" she asked.