‘Oh,’ said the farmer, and then paused, eyes and mouth round with astonished concern. ‘Well,’ he continued presently, ‘I’m glad as ye ’polygised. I’m very glad as ye ’polygised, Richard. ’Ees, that was very well done of ’ee. But what did you go for to offend her for?’
He leaned forward, anxious wrinkles still furrowing his brow, and puckering up his mouth as though he was going to whistle. By-and-by, indeed, he did actually whistle under his breath and without any regard for tune. Richard, meanwhile, stood looking down into the fire as though he had not heard the question.
‘Eh?’ hinted his uncle at last.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon! I can’t think, I’m sure, how I came to forget myself so. I was out of temper, I suppose.’
‘Ah,’ commented the farmer. ‘Well, I can say truly as she and me ha’ never had a word, not since I knowed her. Nay, not so much as one word! We did al’ays get on wonderful well in ’Lias’ time, and now I do really think as we gets on better than ever.’
‘So you ought to,’ said Richard, a trifle irritably; then he added in a softer tone: ‘I don’t believe anyone could quarrel with you, Uncle Isaac.’
‘Well, d’ ye see,’ explained Isaac, waving his pipe impressively, ‘even if I was a quarrelsome man—which I bain’t—I never should ax to quarrel wi’ she. I’m oncommon fond o’ Mrs. F.!’
To this Richard made no rejoinder. Stretching out his foot he pushed the logs together, and then stood looking down at them again.
‘I’m sorry, Richard, as ye should ha’ hurt her feelings,’ went on the farmer, after ruminating for some time in evident distress of mind. ‘Ah, I be very sorry for that, but ye could n’t do no more nor ’polygise; nay, ye could n’t do more nor that. I’m glad ye did ’polygise, Richard.’
‘So am I,’ said Richard huskily; adding, with the same irritation which he had previously displayed: ‘Not that it makes much difference one way or the other.’