She was in Farnborough the next market-day, and William met her and said:
“I'll take a cup of tea with you to-night, Susan, if you are agreeable.”
“William,” said Susan sharply, “what makes you always come to us on market-day?”
“I don't know. What makes Mr. Meadows come that day?”
“Because he passes our house to go to his own, I suppose; but you live but two miles off; you can come any day that you are minded.”
“Should I be welcome, Susan?”
“What do you think, Will? Speak your mind; I don't understand you.”
“Seems to me I was not very welcome last time.”
“If I thought that I wouldn't come again,” replied Susan, as sharp as a needle. Then instantly repenting a little, she explained: “You are welcome to me, Will, and you know that as well as I do, but I want you to come some other evening, if it is all the same to you.”
“Why?”