"Don't that frost you, Gilbert! But she'll have her way, she'll have her way, an' it's probably the best. For I don't mind tellin' you, even if she's by, that she knows more'n any doctor, an' barrin' a little too much watchfulness, is the best woman on earth."
"One can see that with half an eye," I answered.
"Yes; an' she's the kind of a woman for a poor man, knowin' more'n to run into the fence when she gits to the end of the furrer. Rose-bushes is all right, Gilbert, in their place; but they don't make good kindlin' wood, an' when women ain't brought up to know nothin' 'cept to set 'round an' make themselves pleasant-like, they shouldn't break the back of a poor man by marryin' him. Women is like trees; sum air only purty; other's air just as purty, an' make good rails an' firewood, too, when the need comes."
"How is it with men, Blott?" Fox asked, winking at Mrs. Blott.
"Well, I wasn't talkin' 'bout men," he answered; "but there's many a little woman takin' in washin' to support a hulk of a man who's too lazy to work."
"You will be sheriff some day, Blott, with such a wife," I answered, bowing to the little woman as we started to leave.
"Yes, you can't keep a good man down. I'm gettin' old, too, an' only young turkeys is willin' to roost on the lower limbs. I'm pipe-layin' for the place, Gilbert; but I mayn't get it, for the deservin' don't always win, an' if they did there'd be nothin' left for the others. It's the compeetin' of the deservin' with the ondeservin' that makes the world interestin' to everybody."
Bidding Blott and his wife good by, Constance and I hurried on to the Dragon, where we found Mr. Seymour, who, as I expected, joined with the others in thinking I should lose no time in going to my aunt.
"Come, you can't ride on an empty stomach!" he exclaimed, after we had talked the matter over, and with that led the way to the Treasure room, Constance and I following. Here luncheon was served, and eating it we spent an hour talking of the past and the future, for none of us could tell how much my present journey might change my way of life. Going downstairs at last, we found Uncle Job and Aunt Betty and Fox awaiting us, the latter mounted on a fine horse and holding the gray mare, saddled and bridled and looking as fine as a fiddle. Much affected by all their kindness, I came near to breaking down, but putting as good a face on it as I could, I bade them good by, and mounting my horse we set off at a gallop.
CHAPTER LI