Patty had at all times displayed a disposition before her marriage to flirt with those of the opposite sex. She never for a moment thought there was any harm in this, for in the main she was a true-hearted, honourably-disposed woman. Nevertheless, she did give ear to the fulsome flattery bestowed upon her by Mr. Fortescue.
The farmer had full confidence in his wife, and would have trusted her with anybody, but he did not calculate with anything like exactness the viper he was cherishing in his household.
“You’re looking a little pale and jaded, Mr. Fortescue,” said he. “Leastways, it strikes me so—I hope I’m mistaken, sir.”
“I’m tolerably well, thank you,” returned the visitor. “But I could not sleep well last night;” here he glanced at Patty.
“That be a bad job,” cried Ashbrook. “When a man can’t sleep there must be summat the matter wi’ him.”
“Oh, I shall be all right in an hour or two, I dare say,” returned Fortescue, with a laugh. “It’s no use giving way to idle fancies.”
“Not a bit on it, none in the least. Tek a mug of beer wi’ your breakfast and come over to Cheadle’s farm wi’ me. They’ve got an ingin there.”
“Oh, indeed.”
“Yes, ha’ another there, and a crust of bread and cheese; then if you’re done up you can come back here while I walk over the farm.”
“All right, my friend, I will do so.”