‘I do ’low he were—old enough,’ replied Elias hastily. ‘Well, now I’ve a-told ye the news, Isaac, I think I might as well take myself home again. My head be all in a whirl wi’ so much travellin’ and one thing and another. Good-night to ye, Isaac; ye must be sure an’ come over to see the new turnip-hoer to-morrow.’
A little more than three weeks later Fiander brought home his bride, and Isaac Sharpe cleaned himself, and strolled up in the evening to congratulate the couple. Elias admitted him, his face wreathed with smiles, and his whole person smartened up and rejuvenated.
‘Come in, Isaac, come in. The wife’s gone upstairs to get ready for supper, but she’ll be down in a minute.’
‘I give you joy,’ said Sharpe gruffly.
‘Thank’ee, Isaac, thank’ee. Come in and take a chair. Ye may fill your pipe too—she does n’t object to a pipe.’
‘Who does n’t object to a pipe?’ said Isaac staring, with a great hand on each knee.
‘Why, Mrs. Fiander does n’t. Oh, Isaac, I be a-favoured so. I told you the A’mighty had marked me out for wedlock; well, I can truly say that this here missus promises to be the best o’ the three. Wait till ye see her, and you’ll think I’m in luck.’
Isaac gazed at him with a kind of stolid compassion, shook his head, deliberately filled his pipe, and fell to smoking. Elias did the same, and after he had puffed for a moment or two broke silence.
‘Ah! ye’ll find her most agree’ble. I did mention to her that you be used to drop in of a Sunday, and she did make no objections—no objections at all.’
‘Did n’t she?’ returned Isaac. ‘Come, that’s a good thing.’ He paused for a moment, the veins in his forehead swelling. ‘I don’t know but if she had made objections I should n’t ha’ come all the same,’ he continued presently. ‘I’ve a-come here Sunday arter Sunday for twenty year and more. It would n’t seem very natural to stop away now.’