“I think,” she said, after a minute’s silence, “that we might have a little cupboard made for this yere chaney, Silas. The cupboard could face the door and the two windows, and when the sun come in it ’ud shine on the cups and saucers and make ’em look real fine, and when Aunt Hannah came to see us we could use the chaney. I has got some cups and saucers at home as ’ud do for you and me every day, Silas.”
“My gel,” said Aunt Hannah, “come here and kiss me. Silas, I withdraw all my hopposition to yer wedding this gel; the Lord has seen fit to give her a mind to match her face. She spoke now with rare wisdom, and my own three delf cups as I spoke on to yer last week, I’ll give to this gel as a wedding present.”
Chapter Sixteen.
The tea-drinking having turned out such a success, Silas went down to the village to spend the night with old Peters in a state of rare exultation.
“I wor right, yer see,” he said. “I know’d what I were about when I asked that yere little cutting to come and strike root in my garden.”
“She’s a werry purty creter,” said old Peters. “I don’t go for to deny it, Silas, she’s rare and purty. But what ails her, man? Do yer think as she has given yer her young affection; you ain’t so young, Silas, and you ain’t to say ’ansome; do yer think that gracious, purty girl gives back love for your love, Silas?”
Silas felt as if a dash of ice-cold water had been thrown over his warm, glowing, happy heart.
“What can a gel do more nor say ‘yes?’” he remarked after a pause.