‘Well now, Mrs. Fiander,’ he resumed, as he set it down, ‘I be trewly sorry that ye be so vexed an’ ann’yed wi’ the men comin’ so late; but, if I may advise ’ee, be a bit stiff wi’ ’em; don’t ’ee let ’em fancy they can impose upon ’ee because ye be a woman.’
‘I assure you, Mr. Sharpe, I showed them very plainly that I was vexed this morning. I spoke as severely as I could.’
‘Lard, my dear, them chaps don’t care for words; more pertic’lar a woman’s words. Bless you! they’ve all got women-folks o’ their own, an’ they be well used to scoldin’. ’T is different wi’ us men; when we be angry we can dang here and there, and use a bit o’ language. Then, d’ ye see,’ said Isaac, leaning forward confidentially, ‘the chaps understand as we be in earnest; but ’t ’ud be no manner o’ good your tryin’ to do that, my dear; ’t would n’t come nat’ral to ’ee, and they would n’t think a bit the better of ’ee for it. Nay, nay,’ he repeated mournfully, ‘they wouldn’t think the better of ’ee.’
A faint smile hovered round Rosalie’s lips, but Isaac remained quite serious.
‘A woman must show by her deeds that she be in earnest,’ he went on after a pause. ‘’T is the only way, my dear. Deeds and not words for a woman!’
Here he paused again, shaking his head reflectively. It was possible that his thoughts had travelled back to that memorable box in which his erring father had enshrined the riven locks that testified to his own transgressions and the vigorous retaliation of his wife. Isaac’s late mother had certainly been a woman of action.
‘That’s it, my dear,’ repeated Sharpe, emerging from his reverie, ‘ye’ll be forced to turn to deeds. Next time them chaps comes late, jist you up an’ fine them. Says you, “Short work desarves short pay. Bear in mind,” says you, “that accordin’ to the work shall be the wage.”’
‘Yes, I might try that,’ agreed Rosalie. ‘But the worst of it is they lose so much time and do their work so badly when they do come.’
‘Then, jist make a’ example o’ one o’ them—that’s your best plan. Give the worst o’ them the sack, and ye’ll find the others ’ull settle down like—like lambs,’ said the sheep-farmer, bringing out the simile triumphantly.
‘Thank you very much for your advice, Mr. Sharpe. I’ll take it. And now—’ she paused a moment, blushing—‘what would you recommend me to do with regard to my other difficulty? How am I to make people understand that I don’t mean to marry again?’