Martin followed him through the orchard and the paddock and the garden and the farmyard to the house. He noticed that everything was in the pink of condition. But as he passed the stables he heard the cows lowing badly.
The farm-kitchen was a big one. It had all the things that go to make the best farm-kitchens: such as red bricks and heavy smoke-blackened beams, and a deep hearth with a great fire on it and settles inside, from which one could look up at the chimney-shaft to the sky, and clay pipes and spills alongside, and a muller for wine or beer; and hams and sides of bacon and strings on onions and bunches of herbs; much pewter, and a copper warming-pan, and brass candlesticks, and a grandfather clock; a cherrywood dresser and wheelback chairs polished with age; and a great scrubbed oaken table to seat a harvest-supper, planed from a single mighty plank. It was as clean as everything else in that good room, but all the scrubbing would not efface the circular stains wherever men had sat and drunk; and that was all the way round and in the middle. There were mugs and a Toby jug upon it now. Old Gillman filled two of the mugs, and lifted one to Martin, and Martin echoed the action like a looking-glass. And they toasted each other in good Audit Ale.
"Well," said Old Gillman stuffing his pipe, "it's been a peaceful time, and now us must just see how things go."
"They look shipshape enough at the moment," said Martin.
"Ah," said Old Gillman shaking his head, "that's the lads. They're good lads when you let em alone. But what it'll be now they maids get meddling again us can't foretell. It were bad enough afore, wi' their quarrelsomeness and their shilly-shally. It sends all things to rack and ruin."
"What does?" said Martin.
"This here love." Old Gillman refilled his mug. "We'll not talk of it. She were a handy gal afore Robin began unmaking her mind along of his own. Lord! why can't these young things be plain and say what they want, and get it? Wasn't I plain wi' her mother?"
"Were you?" said Martin.
"Ah, worse luck!" said Gillman, "and me a happy bachelor as I was. What did I want wi' a minx about the place?" He filled his mug again.
"What do any of us?" said Martin. "These women are the deuce."