‘Oh yes, you have,’ he answered. ‘All the right in the world. If you’ll take in hand to show me my faults, I’ll take in hand to cure ‘em so far as a man may.’
‘I don’t think you’re fickle,’ said the girl hesitatingly; ‘but I do think you’re shallow, Mr. Protheroe.’
‘Not a bit of it, dear,’ he protested. ‘I’m as deep as Gamck. As for your still waters running deep, it’d be a better proverb to my mind to say deep waters run still—at times. Niagara’s deepish, folks say that have seen it. That’s not to say that I even myself with Niagara, you’ll understand, though ‘tis in my nature to splash about a good deal. But all that apart, Bertha dear, try to make up your mind to take me as I am, and help me to make a man o’ myself.’
At this point back came the farmer’s wife with a clatter of pails in the back kitchen to indicate her arrival in advance. Lane took his leave with a reluctant air, going away much more gravely than he had arrived.
‘Well,’ said Mrs. Fellowes, drawing her knitting from a capacious pocket and falling to work upon it at once, ‘hast sent Number Two about his business?’
Bertha cast an embarrassed look at her and blushed.
‘Mother,’ she said, ‘you seem to find out everything.’
‘Can find my way to the parish church by daylight,’ the elder woman answered with complacency. ‘But you tek care, my wench, whilst thee beest throwin’ all the straight sticks aside, as thee doesn’t pick up a crooked ‘un at the last. Thee hast a fancy for the lad, too, that’s as plain to be seen as the Beacon.’
‘Oh!’ cried Bertha, reddening again. ‘I hope not.’
‘For me, my gell,’ said her mother. ‘For me. And it’s outside my thinkin’ why a maid shouldn’t tek a fancy to him. A lad as is stiddy an’ handsome, and as blithe as sunshine! He’s as fond as a calf into the bargain.’