with Young Zeb's green cart, and Young Zeb himself standing up in it,
wide-legged. He wore a colour as fresh as on Christmas morning, and
seemed none the worse for his adventure.

"Hello!" he called, pulling up the mare; "'mornin', Uncle Issy--
'mornin', father."

"Same to you, my son. Whither away?--as the man said once."

"Aye, whither away?" chimed Uncle Issy; "for the pilchards be all gone
up Channel these two months."

"To Liskeard, for a chest-o'-drawers." Young Zeb, to be ready for
married life, had taken a house for himself--a neat cottage with a yard
and stable, farther up the coombe. But stress of business had
interfered with the furnishing until quite lately.

"Rate meogginy, I suppose, as befits a proud tradesman."

"No: painted, but wi' the twiddles put in so artfully you'd think 'twas
rale. So, as 'tis a fine day, I'm drivin' in to Mister Pennyway's shop
o' purpose to fetch it afore it be snapped up, for 'tis a captivatin'
article. I'll be back by six, tho', i' time to get into my clothes an'
grease my hair for the courant, up to Sheba."

"Zeb," said his father, abruptly, "'tis a grand match you'm makin', an'
you may call me a nincom, but I wish ye wasn'."

"'Tis lookin' high," put in Uncle Issy.