"He is certainly an excellent young man," she said. "A noble fellow. I've thought of him more than once as you spoke of him in that speech of yours,—'the man Diogenes sought!' I trust he will make my little Nellie happy."
"She has that within her that ensures happiness," said Peter steadily. "The sweetest, soundest heart ever a woman had. Heaven bless her!"
Mistress Amanda softly stretched out her firm, shapely hand, and laid it on his own as it rested on the arm of the chair. It was a friendly, sympathetic touch. Perhaps unawares, something more went into it than she intended.
Peter looked at her with great kindness.
"You and me air getting to be middle-aged people, Amanda," he said. "The chief thing now is for us to make the young people happy."
But old lady Powell, apparently dozing in her chair on the opposite side of the fire was building a double air-castle. She said to herself that Peter's little green cottage would suit the young preacher and his bride very well, if its master should come to Benvenew to live. Nothing was more likely. And Amanda and Peter would just hit it off together. Everybody could see that. It was perfectly plain.