"I won't have you name 'em together," he answered. "A man's firstborn is always a bit different to the rest. Ned is more given to reading and brain work."
She laughed fearlessly and he snorted like a bull beside her.
"What are you laughing at?" he said.
"At your silliness. Such a sharp chap and so wise as you are; and yet our handsome eldest—why, he can't do wrong! And Lord knows he can't do wrong in my eyes neither. Still, when it comes to work——"
"We'll leave Ned," answered the father. "He can work all right, and when you've seed him play St. George and marked his intellects and power of speech, you'll be the first to say what a 'mazing deal of cleverness be hid in him. His mind's above the land, and why not? We can't all be farmers. But Rupert's a born farmer, and seeing as he be going to follow my calling, he ought to follow my example and bide a bachelor for a good ten years more."
"She's a nice girl, however."
"She may be, or she may not be. Anyway, she's been advising him to go away from home, and that's not much to her credit."
"She loves him and hates for him to be here so miserable."
"He'll find himself a mighty sight more miserable away. Don't I pay him good money? Ban't he saving and prospering? What the deuce do he want to put a wife and children round his neck for till he's learned to keep his own head above water?"
"'Twas Mr. Luscombe's man that's determined him, I do think," declared Hester Baskerville. "Jack Head is just the sort to unsettle the young, with his mischievous ideas. All the same, I wish to God you could meet Rupert. He's a dear good son, and there's lots of room, and for my part I'd love to see him here with Milly. 'Tis high time you was a grandfather."