"That is our protest, dear," she said.
He watched her out of sight. He turned to the wife of his bosom.
"Come along, you devil!" he said dispassionately.
Together they set off across the moor. Roddick laughed harshly from time to time.
CHAPTER XV. A HOME-COMING.
The mistal at the rear of Gabriel Hirst's house was noisy, this May evening, with the clatter of milking-pails, the mooing of cattle in their stalls, and the semi-audible running comments of Jose Binns. Jose, it will be remembered, in addition to looking after the chapel and giving sound advice to the preacher, was Gabriel's right hand in the management of the farm.
Now the Ling Crag folk were keen as nails in their bargainings with the Almighty, and they were just as keen in their conduct of more carnal transactions. Jose Binns, indeed, had a really remarkable aptitude for trafficking of both sorts; it was his favourite occupation, while milking or engaged in any other work that left his thoughts free, to drive imaginary bargains with non-existent purchasers touching property which was not his to sell. This was his substitute for the reading of fiction, and it certainly betokened a higher order of intelligence than that of the merely practical man who chaffers with realities.
The mistal door stood open to-night. Jose and the roan cow he was milking showed vague at the far end of the byre; the honey-rich flavour of kine mingled with the summer dusk within. The roan cow was more patient than usual, and Jose, feeling himself in consequence at liberty to take a little imaginative run, dropped his mumbled adjurations. His voice grew distinct and earnest as he commenced a spirited duologue, with one William Feather as second party, Jose acting as sponsor for William in that individual's absence.