men look so neat and comfortable as those chaps scattered about Wellington and Blucher. Except perhaps the fellow bent across the cannon. Then that 'Trial of William, Lord Russell'—there's a good, solid air of comfort about it. Yes, I like your house and your stock and, above all, your 'help.' No one could feel blue with Hugh and Phœbe about. I'm awfully glad to find you so comfortable here, Derek."
What a decent fellow Edmund was! Not a hint of envy—of grudging him his good fortune! Derek made up his mind to destroy the cheque he had written for him and to write a more substantial one.
The ale had put an agreeable glow into their veins. They were as light-hearted as schoolboys. Derek told his brother of all his ambitions for Grimstone, and impressed him with the knowledge of farming he had gained in the past months. They went to the kitchen where the collie lay, stretched on his mat beside the cooking stove. Plates of apple-parings on the table reminded them of Phœbe's eyelids and the apple-pips. They laughed, and then suddenly began to scuffle. Around the kitchen they strained and heaved getting more in earnest every moment. At last Derek bent Edmund across the table and, holding his head down, administered some hearty thumps. The collie sprang up and began to bark.
"You blasted idiot, you've hurt me," groaned Edmund. "My hair's full of apple-parings!"
"Be a little soldier," said Derek. "Here, have a drink of cream. I'll wager you've never seen cream like this." He lifted the lid from an earthen crock and showed the bubbly, yellow foam.
Edmund came over, nursing his elbow. "You hurt me," he repeated. "I'm damned if I have another tussle with you. What cream!" He took the cup that Derek gave him, and dipped it. "I wonder if it will hurt me," he said.
