"Yes," said the squire, "and she reads me the girls' letters; they are a great consolation, for Georgie seems so thoroughly happy."
What more dangerous occupation for a hale old gentleman than to sit and listen by the hour to the written raptures of his daughter on the subject of married bliss, read to him by a lady of prepossessing appearance, by his own fireside, and after having partaken of at least three glasses of old port?
"I suppose," said the vicar's wife with assumed carelessness, "that Miss Hood will be leaving you soon?"
The squire's eye twinkled with suppressed merriment.
"Oh no," he said in a determined tone, "I couldn't afford to lose Miss Hood. For Lucy's sake," he added maliciously.
The lady fanned herself. There are limits to the endurance of long-suffering woman. Mrs. Dodd felt that she was being trampled on. The sensation was new to her, and unpleasant.
"You appear to cling to her, squire," she said.
"Naturally, naturally," answered the squire, "so do the girls. She has been more than a mother to them."
"Why not make her so in reality?" retorted the exasperated woman, losing her head. Here the fanning became more furious.
"The fact is, Mrs. Dodd," said the squire, "I have been screwing myself up to that point for the last dozen years, but I am close on the age of the patriarchs, and I don't think she'd have me. If you are of a different opinion, Mrs. Dodd, I will reconsider the matter; of course it would be most appropriate. There's no fool like an old fool, I suppose."