Quarrel! it was not worth calling a quarrel, cried the founder, shortly. It seems that some meddlesome fool has been telling them in London of my works, and this gentleman has been sent down to inspect the place. He vexed me, and said something about the King, which made me rap out an oath. He drew: I drew.
And our visitor went down, said Gil Carr, smiling. Well, Master Cobbe, theres not much harm done.
But I shall have to send over to the Moat, Gil, and tell Sir Thomas; he was here a piece back.
Nay, said Gil, ill news flies apace, there is no need to hasten it. Leave it to the gentleman himself.
Perhaps you are right, returned the founder. Of course he will not be fit to leave for a day or two. Mace, child, get the south chamber ready for our guest: lets try and make up for the ill that we have done.
Gilbert Carr half-closed his eyes and stood silent till Mace left the open hall, where they were standing, to prepare the chamber for the wounded man, when he replied to the founders remark:
It depends so upon the man.
Eh? How?
Well, if you had a scratch or pin-thrust like that you would go and see to the grinding of your last batch of powder. If I had it, I should.
Well? said the founder.
I should tie it up tightly, replied Gil, drily. Your guest there will make a months illness of it for the sake of being petted by the women and nursed.
Thats a pretty jealous kind of remark, Captain Gil, said the founder sharply. I noticed how you took me up short when I bade Mace stop in the room with the poor young man. Come down here, I want to talk to you. We may as well say it now as at any other time. Lets walk down to the empty furnace. No one will heed us there.
With all my heart, said Gil, and, with a cloud gathering on his brow, he walked after the founder, along by the side of the rushing water, past the mill-wheel, and down to a good-sized stone building, beside which was a great pile of charcoal.
Now, Gil Carr, said the founder, seating himself on the ledge of an open window, Im not going to quarrel.
That you are not, said the other, smiling frankly; and if you did you are not going to fight, for I wont draw. One wounded man is enough for one day.
Tut tut yes, cried the founder. But now look here, Captain Gil
Suppose we drop the captain, and let it be plain Gil again, as it has been these many years. Master Cobbe, we are very old friends.
Yes, yes, of course, Gil, so we are, said the founder, looking annoyed and puzzled. But now, look here, tell me why did you interfere when I was going to tell my child to sit in the room with that injured gentleman. Come now, be frank.
I will, said Gil, quietly. It was because I did not think it seemly for her to stay and tend a man whose eyes had just openly bespoken admiration, and I thought that Janet would do as well.
Like your insolence, cried the choleric old man.
Gently,
Master Cobbe, said the other smiling; too much powder again.
Confound it, yes, he cried, calming down, but only to grow wroth the next moment, as he saw the smile upon his companions face. You are laughing at me, Gil; and now, hark ye here, I think it is quite time we came to a proper understanding.
About Mace? said Gil, quietly.
Yes, about my child, said the founder.
I think so, too, said Gil, calmly, but with the bronze hue of his cheek becoming a little more deeply tinted.
Oh! you do, said the founder, with a peculiar hesitancy, now it had come to the point, and an aspect of being slightly in awe of the other and his calm, firm way the peculiar quiet assertion of one born to and accustomed to command.
I do, said Gil, gazing him full in the eyes; and I am glad that you have opened a subject I wanted to discuss.
Then it is soon done, said the founder; and look here, Gil, my dear lad, after the talk is over, we go back to our old positions as good friends, and it is to be as if we had never spoken.
Have no fear, said Gil, smiling; as I told you, we shall not quarrel.
Well, then, look here, said the founder, making a plunge at once into the subject. Gil Carr, you are growing too intimate with my child.
Indeed! said Gil, raising his eyebrows. Let me see, Master Cobbe: it is sixteen years since Wat Kilby brought me, a delicate boy of twelve, low from an attack of a fever caught in the Western Isles, and you and your good wife nursed me into strength.
Yes, yes, quite true, said the founder, hastily. Poor Rachel! poor Rachel! he muttered, and his face clouded.
If ever woman was meet for the kingdom of heaven when she died it was Maces mother my second mother! said Gil, gravely.
Amen to that! said the founder. Thank you, Gil thank you God bless you for those words, he continued, with his voice trembling; and he seized and wrung the young mans hand, which warmly pressed his in return.
Mace was a child of four then, Master Cobbe, said Gil, and we have been like brother and sister ever since.
Yes, yes, quite true, said the founder.
Then why do you say that I am growing too intimate with your child?