“No, no, ’tisn’t against my will. My wish is, now I d’see how ’tis hurten thee to live without en, that he shall marry thee as soon as we’ve considered a little. That’s my wish flat and plain, Fancy. There, never cry, my little maid! You ought to ha’ cried afore; no need o’ crying now ’tis all over. Well, howsoever, try to step over and see me and mother-law to-morrow, and ha’ a bit of dinner wi’ us.”
“And—Dick too?”
“Ay, Dick too, ’far’s I know.”
“And when do you think you’ll have considered, father, and he may marry me?” she coaxed.
“Well, there, say next Midsummer; that’s not a day too long to wait.”
On leaving the school Geoffrey went to the tranter’s. Old William opened the door.
“Is your grandson Dick in ’ithin, William?”
“No, not just now, Mr. Day. Though he’ve been at home a good deal lately.”
“O, how’s that?”
“What wi’ one thing, and what wi’ t’other, he’s all in a mope, as might be said. Don’t seem the feller he used to. Ay, ’a will sit studding and thinking as if ’a were going to turn chapel-member, and then do nothing but traypse and wamble about. Used to be such a chatty boy, too, Dick did; and now ’a don’t speak at all. But won’t ye step inside? Reuben will be home soon, ’a b’lieve.”