"She'll take a bit of time to recover; but she'll be at your wedding with the best of us, if I know her."
"Not her! Mark me! She'll never come inside my house or put a finger to my childer. And God knows I don't want her to."
"She will--she will. You're too hard. She'll grow wiser and more understanding. She's a very kindly, sensible girl in a lot of ways. Only she's made of sterner stuff than me and you. I wish I was so noble-minded as her and so brave, I'm sure. She's as plucky as David, Dorcas. Nought on four legs can frighten her."
"Four legs!" said Dorcas. "I want for a man on two legs to frighten her--ay, and master her and make her run about and do his will. But no man will ever look at her. They want something to put their arms around--not the sour, stand-offish likes of she. 'Tis no better than facing the east wind to be along with her."
"Not at all, Dorcas. You'll soon see different. She have a sort of queer feeling in her that 'tis an awful horrid thing to give yourself over to a man. I do believe she feels almost the same if a woman marries. You'd think the whole race of women had received a blow in the face when one takes a husband. She can't talk of 'em with patience. But us will get her a husband come presently. Then her eyes will open."
"Never--never!" foretold the other. "She'll go single to her grave--and a good riddance when it happens."
"Here's David coming up the path," said Margaret, and both women went out to meet him.
But Madge's prophecy was only partly fulfilled. He brought, indeed, the news that Mr. Screech was prepared to wed with Dorcas at the earliest opportunity; but he showed no joy at the fact, and was indeed in an exceedingly bad temper.
"What are you doing here?" he said to Dorcas, sternly. But she never had been and never was likely to be brow-beaten by a man.
"Come to see Madge, seemingly, and hearing that you was gone with father to have a tell with my William, I thought I'd wait and see what came of it."