“We know all about him,” the farmer answered; “and that is something to begin with. His land is worth fifteen shillings an acre less than ours, and full of kid-bine. But, for all that, he can keep a family, and is a good home-dweller. However, like the rest of us, in the way of women, he must bide his bolt, and bode it.”
“Father,” the mistress of the house replied, “I shall never go one step out of my way to encourage a young man who makes you speak so lightly of those you owe so much to. Harry Tanfield may take his chance for me.”
“So a' may for me, mother—so a' may for me. If a' was to have our Mary, his father George would be coming up between us, out of his peace in churchyard, more than he doth a'ready; and a' comes too much a'ready.—Why, poppet, we were talking of you—fie, fie, listening!”
“No, now, father,” Mary Anerley answered, with a smile at such a low idea; “you never had that to find fault with me, I think. And if you are plotting against me for my good—as mother loves to put it—it would be the best way to shut me out before you begin to do it.”
“Why, bless my heart and soul,” exclaimed the farmer, with a most crafty laugh—for he meant to kill two birds with one stone—“if the lass hathn't got her own dear mother's tongue, and the very same way of turning things! There never hath been such a time as this here. The childer tell us what to do, and their mothers tell us what not to do. Better take the business off my hands, and sell all they turnips as is rotting. Women is cheats, and would warrant 'em sound, with the best to the top of the bury. But mind you one thing—if I retires from business, like Brother Popplewell, I shall expect to be supported; cheap, but very substantial.”
“Mary, you are wicked to say such things,” Mistress Anerley began, as he went out, “when you know that your dear father is such a substantial silent man.”
CHAPTER XLIX
A BOLD ANGLER
As if in vexation at being thwarted by one branch of the family, Cupid began to work harder at the other, among the moors and mountains. Not that either my lady Philippa or gentle Mistress Carnaby fell back into the snares of youth, but rather that youth, contemptuous of age, leaped up, and defied everybody but itself, and cried tush to its own welfare.