“Well, to put it quite plain, the missus wants her to have Tom Podmore down at the works there, but the girl hangs back, and I found out the reason. I did see Master Dick talking to her one night, and it set me a thinking.”
“And you didn’t stop it?” exclaimed Mrs Glaire, sharply.
“Stop it? Why should I stop it?” said the foreman. “She’s getting on for twenty, and is sure to begin thinking about sweethearts. Ann did when she was nineteen, and if I recollect right, little fair-haired Lisbeth Ward was only eighteen when she used to blush on meeting Dick Glaire. I see her do it,” said the bluff fellow, chuckling.
“But that was long ago,” exclaimed Mrs Glaire, excitedly. “Positions are changed since then. My son—”
“Well, ma’am, he’s a workman’s son, and my bairn’s a workman’s daughter. I’ve give her a good schooling, and she’s as pretty a lass as there is in these parts, and if your son Richard’s took a fancy to her, and asks me to let him marry her, and the lass likes him, why I shall say yes, like a man.”
Mrs Glaire looked at him aghast. This was a turn in affairs she had never anticipated, and one which called forth all her knowledge of human nature to combat.
“But,” she exclaimed, “he is engaged to his cousin here, Miss Pelly.”
“Don’t seem like it,” chuckled the foreman. “Why, he’s always after Daisy now.”
“Oh, this is dreadful!” gasped Mrs Glaire, dropping her knitting. “I tell you he is engaged—promised to be married to his second cousin, Miss Pelly.”
“Stuff!” said Banks, laughing. “He’ll never marry she, though she’s a good, sweet girl.”