"Be you'm a-goin', Prue?" inquired the Ancient mumblingly, for his pipe was in full blast.
"Yes, gran'fer."
"Then tell Simon as I'll be along in 'arf an hour or so, will 'ee, lass?"
"Yes, gran'fer!" Always with her back to us.
"Then kiss ye old grandfeyther as loves 'ee, an' means for to see 'ee well bestowed, an' wed, one o' these fine days!" Prudence stooped and pressed her fresh, red lips to his wrinkled old cheek and, catching up her basket, turned to the door, yet not so quickly but that I had caught the gleam of tears beneath her lashes. Black George half rose from his seat, and stretched out his hand towards her burden, then sat down again as, with a hasty "Good night," she vanished through the yawning doorway. And, sitting there, we listened to her quick, light footstep cross the road to "The Bull."
"She'll make some man a fine wife, some day!" exclaimed the Ancient, blowing out a cloud of smoke, "ay, she'll mak' some man as fine a wife as ever was, some day."
"You speak my very thought, Ancient," said I, "she will indeed; what do you think, George?" But George's answer was to choke suddenly, and, thereafter, to fall a-coughing.
"Smoke go t' wrong way, Jarge?" inquired the Ancient, fixing him with his bright eye.
"Ay," nodded George.
"Ha!" said the old man, and we smoked for a time in silence.