“I daresay you’re right,” said ’Bias, apparently much ’relieved.  “It’ll save a lot of trouble, anyhow, if you’re goin’ in for public life.  A man in public life can’t afford time for details such as weighin’ bullocks.  But, for my part, I’m beginnin’ to take an interest in agriculture.”

“And why not?” agreed Cai.  “There’s no prettier occupation than farmin’, so long as a man contents himself with lookin’ on an’ don’t start practising it.  Actual farmin’ needs capital, o’ course.”

To this ’Bias made no response, but continued to stare thoughtfully at Mrs Bosenna’s kine.

“After all,” pursued Cai cheerfully, “these little interests are the salt of a leisurable man’s life.  I dare say, f’r instance, as Philp gets quite an amount o’ fun out o’ funerals, though to me it seems a queer taste.  Every man to his hobby; and yours, now, I can understand.  When you’ve finished potterin’ around the garden, weedin’ an’ plantin’, —­an’, by the way, the season for plantin’ isn’t far off.  It’s about time we looked up those autumn catalogues we talked so much about back in the spring.”

“True,” said ‘Bias.  “It has slipped my mind of late.  An’ you not mentionin’ either—­”

“Somehow it had slipped mine too. . . .  All that Regatta business, I suppose. . . .  And now, if I am to take up with this School Board there’ll be more calls on my time.  But there!  If I turn over both the gardens to you, I reckon you won’t object.  ’Twill be so much the more occupation,—­not o’ course,” added Cai, “that I want to shirk doin’ my share.  But, as I was sayin’, when you’ve done your day’s job at the garden, an’ taken your stroll down to the quay to pick up the evenin’ gossip, what healthier wind-up can there be than to stretch your legs on a walk to one of the two-three farms in the parish, an’ note how the crops are comin’ on, an’ the beef an’ mutton, so to speak, an’ how the cows are in milk; an’ maybe drop in for tea an’ a chat?—­here at Rilla, f’r instance, where you’ll always be sure of a welcome.”

“You’re sure o’ that?” asked ’Bias.  The words came slowly, heavily charged with meaning.

“Why, o’ course you will! . . .  ’Twas your own suggestion, mind you.  ‘Takin’ an’ interest in agriculture’ was your words.  I don’t promise, o’ course, that you’ll make much of it, first along.  Learnin’s half the fun—­”

But here Mrs Bosenna’s voice called to them, and they turned together almost guiltily to see her climbing the slope above the mow-hay, with springy gait and cheeks charmingly flushed by recent caresses of the kitchen-fire.

“If you care for it,” she greeted them, “there’s just time for a stroll to Higher Parc and back while Dinah lays tea.  A breath of fresh air will do me all the good in the world”—­little she looked to be in need of it—­“and I don’t suppose either of you knows what a glorious view you’ll get up there?  All the harbour and shipping at your feet, and miles of open Channel beyond!  My poor dear Robert used to say there wasn’t its equal in Cornwall.”