"But what have the moon and I to do with each other, Ancient?"
"Old I be, Peter, a old, old man, but I were young once, an' I tell 'ee the moon 'as a lot more to do wi' it than some folks think—why, Lord love 'ee! theer wouldn't be near so many children a-playin' in the sun if it wasn't for the moon!"
"Ancient," said I, "what might you be driving at?"
"Love, Peter!"
"Love!" said I, letting go the handle of the bellows.
"An' marriage, Peter."
"What in the world—put—such thoughts into your head?"
"You did, Peter."
"I?"
"Ah!—some men is born lovers, Peter, an' you be one. I never see such eyes as yourn afore, so burnin' 'ot they be. Ah, Peter! some maid will see the lovelight aflame in 'em some day, an' droop 'er 'ead an' blush an' tremble—for she'll know, Peter, she'll know; maids was made to be loved, Peter—"