“Don’t you say what you’ll be sorry for.”
“I mean it. Them that plant the seed have a right to call the crops in my opinion; and there did ought to be fair give and take between the creature and his Creator. There weren’t no rhyme nor reason in planting another girl on me, and I ain’t going to be the plaything of the Almighty no more—and more shan’t Mary. We’ve done—through no fault of our own neither.”
He ascended to a weary and apologetic partner who shared his view of the situation.
“It’s the living daps of the last,” she said. “A nice little, heavy girl; but I can’t do no more, Tom; I can’t fight against Providence.”
“No you can’t,” he declared, “and what’s more, you shan’t. You’ve broke the law of averages by all accounts; and that’s about the limit. And Somebody shall see that two can play at that game in the future. Providence have shut down on the boys; and I’ll shut down on the girls. It ain’t going to be all one way.”
Mrs. Dolbear shed tears, but she shared his indignation and did not blame his attitude to the baby.
Mrs. Damerell was shocked.
“I wouldn’t open my mouth so wide if I was you, farmer,” she answered. “Who are you to dictate what you want? Here’s a fine female child come into the world, to be your right hand and the joy of your life for all you know to the contrary. I’m sure I never yet saw a pair receive a child in such a way, since the day that Honor Michelmore got one with no thumbs and cussed God. But in your case, Nature have always done her part to the full, and you’re saying things you didn’t ought, Mr. Dolbear.”
“If you’re so pleased with it, you’d better take it home with you,” he answered. “It never can be no favourite of mine now, and I won’t pretend different.”
Beneath Lydia was seeking to allay the disappointment of the family.