"No need. Father's going to meet me on the old tram-line. He's down to Lake to-day."
They returned to the cottage of Philip Weekes, and found the company assembled.
There were present a very ancient, wrinkled man with a thin, white beard, called Valentine Huggins. As happens sometimes, he had out-lived his Christian name, and an appellation, proper to youth, seemed so ridiculous applied to a veteran of fourscore that nobody ever called him by it but one or two of his own generation, who did not mark the humour. Mr. Huggins was the oldest inhabitant of Lydford, and could count numerous grandchildren, though his own sons and daughters were nearly all dead. Adam Churchward, the schoolmaster, and his daughter Mary completed the gathering. He was large, hairless, ponderous, and flatulent; she nearly approached beauty, but her mouth was thin, and her voice served to diminish the pleasure given by her bright, dark face. The tone of it sounded harsh and rough, and when she spoke two little deep lines at their corners increased the asperity of her lips.
"I suppose we may say, in the words of the harvest hymn, that 'all is safely gathered in,'" remarked Mr. Churchward, as he drank his tea. "A good harvest, the work-folk tell me—or, rather, their children." He lifted his protuberant, short-sighted and rather silly eyes upward, to the conventional angle of piety.
"A very good harvest, I believe," admitted Philip, "and good all round—so the missis brought word from market last week."
"I trust the operations of sale and barter have been all that you could wish," added Mr. Churchward.
"Nothing to grumble at—very good markets," declared Philip, "though my partner never will admit it. Still, figures speak, and though she may pretend to lose her temper, I always know. Her pretences ban't like the real thing."
"No pretence about it when Aunt Hepsy's in a right-down tantara of a rage," said Susan.
"An unusual name—a Scriptural name," remarked the schoolmaster. "Has the significance of the name of 'Hephzibah' ever struck your mind, neighbour? It means, 'my delight is in her.'"
"So I've been told," answered the husband, drily. Indeed, his tone silenced the other, and, perceiving that he had apparently struck a wrong note of suggestiveness, Philip made haste to speak again.