Drake laughed.
"Well, if he doesn't, he won't hesitate to say so," he said.
They pulled up at the farm, and Styles came down to the gate to welcome them, calling to a lad to hold the mare.
"Yes, we will come in for a minute or two, Styles, if Mrs. Styles will have us," said Drake.
Mrs. Styles, in the doorway, wiping her hands freshly washed from the flour of a pudding, smiled a welcome.
"Come right in, my lord," she said. "You know you be welcome well enough." She looked at Nell, who was blushing a little. "And all the more welcome for the company you bring."
"Sit down, my lord; sit ye down, miss—or is it 'my lady'?" said Styles, perfectly at ease in his unaffected pleasure at seeing them.
"This is Miss Lorton, the young lady who is rash enough to promise to be my wife, Mrs. Styles," said Drake. "I drove over to introduce her to you, and to show that I took your good advice to heart."
The farmer and his wife surveyed Nell for a moment, then slowly averted their eyes out of regard for her blushes.
"I make so bold to tell your lordship that you never did a wiser thing in your life," said Styles quietly, and with a certain dignity; "and if the young lady be as good as she is pretty—and if I'm anything of a judge, I bet she be!—there's some sense in wishing your lordship and her a long life and every happiness."