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.They were shrinking tyres of red-hot iron onto wooden wheels by pouring cold water over them.Steam rose in clouds, hiding the red, sweating faces of the craftsmen.The sight of the hot metal brought back memories of Captain Day’s agony, and Octavia was glad to move on to the saw-pit.The bottom sawyer was invisible in a cloud of sawdust as he and his mate above pulled the long saw rhythmically up and down, turning logs into planks.The workshops of saddler, carpenter, and mason followed, and then they went into the ciderhouse, where the little donkey would soon be walking round and round, turning a wheel to crush the apples.A door at the back opened onto the huge mill wheel; its steady rumble sent a constant vibration through the building.In the mill itself, next door, Sir Tristram explained the working of the wheels and cogs and shafts that turned the great millstones to grind grain into flour.Octavia was fascinated by everything, and full of questions.The baronet answered as best he could, referring often to the way things were done in Gloucestershire.At last he laughingly confessed that she had wrung him dry of knowledge.“Besides,” he said, pulling out his watch, “watching all this labour has made me amazingly hungry.I sent a message to the miller’s wife first thing this morning to ask her if she could provide bread and cheese at midday, and it is nearly two, so let us see whether she has complied.”The miller’s cottage stood close by.Its garden was gay with sweet William, love-in-a-mist and candytuft, and a yellow climbing rose ran riot above the front door, blossoms nodding in the gusty wind.Inside they found a cosy kitchen and a table set with bread and cheese, not to mention Cornish pasties and blackcurrants with clotted cream and a tall earthen pitcher of cider.Octavia looked at the latter mistrustfully, and was happy to accept a glass of primrose wine instead.While they ate, Sir Tristram talked about Dean Park, about his staff and tenants and neighbours.Octavia ventured to ask about his family, and found out at last why he had spent so much of his youth with the Edgcumbes.His father had been a diplomat and spent little time in England.His mother had died young, of yellow fever, in some foreign port, and he and his sister had lived with their respective godparents, there being no suitable relatives.He scarcely knew his sister, who was several years older and had married her godmother’s son.Octavia’s eavesdropping in the chapel had taught her his opinion of his brother-in-law.It had been the reason for his sudden decision to marry.That, she felt, was a delicate subject, and fearful of mentioning something she ought not to know, she turned the subject to her own family.Seven brothers and sisters with families of their own provided plenty of material for amusing anecdotes.Sir Tristram was soon helpless with laughter at the exploits of her nieces and nephews.“You always make me laugh,” he said, wiping his eyes.Octavia realised with surprise that it was true.She could not recall ever having made anyone at home laugh.In fact, in spite of boasting to Julia that she was used to take part in political discussions, she never said very much of anything at home.She was becoming a shocking chatterbox.Not unnaturally, this thought made her fall silent.Sir Tristram looked at her questioningly, puzzled at the effect of his words, but said nothing.Overcoming their hospitable hostess’s reluctance to be paid, he settled with her and they went out into the meadow.“Shall we walk farther along the valley?” he suggested.“There is plenty of time before we need return.”She agreed.They went back over the little bridge and followed the path beside the stream.Octavia averted her eyes when they passed the spot where she had fallen, and he did not comment.They walked for the most part in silence, though he did point out a mossy tree trunk lying across the stream from which he and Lord William had frequently fallen into the water.They came to an elaborate stone dam, where the stream was divided into two branches.The upper branch ran in a conduit to the mill wheel, which it turned by falling on it from above.Sir Tristram had explained the system back at the mill and now passed the dam and pond lost in thought.Reaching the hamlet of Newhouses, he turned back without consulting Octavia, then came to himself with a start.“I beg your pardon! I have so often walked to this point and no farther that I do it without thought
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