"I did," replied my uncle, laughing; "and you should have seen him. He treated me to a real Cornish thunder-gust."
"Why, what did he say?" asked my aunt, while I listened with all my ears, as we say.
"He said he would rather travel the country with an ass and panniers, selling sand to the old wives, than sell his manhood for a fortune. I said the lady was a good lady, and well nurtured, and he answered:
"'So much the worse,' and then added, 'You mean kindly, I dare say, and I thank you, but I am old-fashioned enough to desire to love my wife.'"
"He is a rustic, without doubt," returned my lady, with a little touch of sarcasm in her voice. "I think you may as well let matters stand as they are, Charles. You will gain nothing by meddling, and 'tis but a thankless office, educating of other people's children."
"I believe you may be right," said my uncle, "and yet I confess I should like to keep the girl."
My aunt made no reply, and the conversation was dropped. I must say I looked on Andrew with a good deal more favor after this. It was something to have a servant (that was the fine phrase at that time) who had refused a great match for my sake.
Our visit at my uncle's was cut rather short from two circumstances, I fancy. One was that he was displeased my mother should have taken Mr. Pepys' advice about selling her jewels. My lady herself had a fancy for these same jewels, and would have bought them on credit, which we could ill afford. Besides which my mother told Andrew and me that it was not well to have money transactions between near relatives.
"They are sure to lead to misunderstanding and coldness, if not to open rupture," said she. "Moreover, from what I have seen, I believe my brother to be already embarrassed with debts."
"I know it for a fact," said Andrew; "and I believe you have done wisely. Mr. Bakewell is now returned, and is ready to treat with you for the jewels at any time."