"'Twill be good for the parish," said Doubledick. "The miners are drouthy souls, and have a proper taste for good sperits. Ay, sure, 'twill do us all good."
"You won't give up the trade, sir?" enquired Tonkin.
"Not I. The Polkerran men will do more than ever before. A fig for your Mildmays and Polwheles—Polwhele is still riding-officer, isn't he? My wits against them any day. We'll double our trade with Roscoff this winter."
"If Delarousse bean't nabbed," said Tonkin. "His game of privateerin' will souse him in hot water one o' these days."
"Oh! we can do without Delarousse. There's a man in Roscoff, no friend of his, who will deal with us better than he."
"It do maze me, Maister Trevanion," said Doubledick, "that arter bein' away all these years ye know so much about the trade."
"I keep my eyes open, that's all," replied Trevanion, with a laugh. "Well, I must be off. You can tell the neighbours about the mines. I'm glad to do something for the old village."
He rode away, giving smiling greetings to the people, men and women, whom he passed on the road.
"A fine feller!" said Doubledick, enthusiastically. "'Twill be heyday in village, Zacky; stirring life, and not so much of a tomb as 'tis since Squire became a pauper."
"But I'm sorry he do want us to break with Delarousse. He be a good trader, for a Frenchman. Howsomever, if there be a better, all the better for we, to be sure."