“Aye! hast ever had any notion of it before?”
“To be sure I have,” said Mrs. Poyser, who always declined, if possible, to be taken by surprise. “I’m not one o’ those as can see the cat i’ the dairy an’ wonder what she’s come after.”
“Thee never saidst a word to me about it.”
“Well, I aren’t like a bird-clapper, forced to make a rattle when the wind blows on me. I can keep my own counsel when there’s no good i’ speaking.”
“But Dinah ’ll ha’ none o’ him. Dost think she will?”
“Nay,” said Mrs. Poyser, not sufficiently on her guard against a possible surprise, “she’ll never marry anybody, if he isn’t a Methodist and a cripple.”
“It ’ud ha’ been a pretty thing though for ’em t’ marry,” said Martin, turning his head on one side, as if in pleased contemplation of his new idea. “Thee’dst ha’ liked it too, wouldstna?”
“Ah! I should. I should ha’ been sure of her then, as she wouldn’t go away from me to Snowfield, welly thirty mile off, and me not got a creatur to look to, only neighbours, as are no kin to me, an’ most of ’em women as I’d be ashamed to show my face, if my dairy things war like their’n. There may well be streaky butter i’ the market. An’ I should be glad to see the poor thing settled like a Christian woman, with a house of her own over her head; and we’d stock her well wi’ linen and feathers, for I love her next to my own children. An’ she makes one feel safer when she’s i’ the house, for she’s like the driven snow: anybody might sin for two as had her at their elbow.”
“Dinah,” said Tommy, running forward to meet her, “mother says you’ll never marry anybody but a Methodist cripple. What a silly you must be!” a comment which Tommy followed up by seizing Dinah with both arms, and dancing along by her side with incommodious fondness.
“Why, Adam, we missed you i’ the singing to-day,” said Mr. Poyser. “How was it?”