“Where is he to go, then? to the church door, and ask for a miracle?”
“No; to his ship-fold, to be sure.”
“Ay! you can; you have got grass and water and everything to hand.”
“And so must you, young man, or you'll never be a farmer. Now, George, I must speak to you seriously” (George winced).
“You are a fine lad, and I like you very well, but I love my own daughter better.”
“So do I!” said George simply.
“And I must look out for her,” resumed Merton. “I have seen a pretty while how things are going here, and if she marries you she will have to keep you instead of you her.”
“Heaven forbid! Matters are not so bad as that, uncle.”
“You are too much of a man, I hope,” continued Merton, “to eat a woman's bread; and if you are not, I am man enough to keep the girl from it.”
“These are hard words to bear,” gasped George. “So near my own house, old man.”