"I couldn't tell you, Tom. I've axed myself that question. But I'm not in father's thoughts."
His caution made him hesitate to speak again, but he knew that another question would go no farther than his listener.
"And if I may venture to put it, would you like to see him wed, miss?"
Susan slowed her steps that no sound of their voices might reach Joe. Her eyes were on his back as she answered.
"Yes, I think I would. A wife would add to his peace and comfort."
"She might add to yours."
"She might; but I'm not troubling as to that. Still, if she was a nice woman, I dare say she would."
"A wife—nice or otherwise—would open your father's eyes," declared Thomas. "In all respect I say it; but where you be concerned, he's got to make such a habit of you, and got to take you so terrible much like he takes his breakfast, or his boots, or any other item of his life, that it would be a very good thing for his character if he found out what you was."
"He don't undervalue me I hope," answered Susan. "Because a man don't say much, it don't follow he don't feel much, Thomas."
"But he do undervalue you cruel, and for that reason I'd be very pleased indeed if he was to get a woman for himself. Because no female he'm likely to find will show your Christian power of taking everything lying down. In fact no woman as ever I heard tell about can rise to such heights in that partickler as you; and your father have got so used to you, like a good pixy about the place, ready and willing to work night and day; and if he was up against another woman, he'd very soon have the surprise of his life."