For some time the doctor could obtain no other answer than the repetition of 'You can't do me any good.' But at length the patience and kind face of the inquirer had their effect on the sad shepherd, and he brought out with a desperate effort and a more clamorous explosion of grief—
'She won't have me!'
'Who won't have you?'
'Well, if you must know,' said the swain, 'you must. It's one of the young ladies up at the Folly.'
'Young ladies?' said the doctor.
'Servants they call themselves,' said the other; 'but they are more like ladies, and hold their heads high enough, when one of them won't have me. Father's is one of the best farms for miles round, and it's all his own. He's a true old yeoman, father is. And there's nobody but him and me. And if I had a nice wife, that would be a good housekeeper for him, and play and sing to him of an evening—for she can do anything, she can—read, write, and keep accounts, and play and sing—I've heard her—and make a plum-pudding—I've seen her—we should be as happy as three crickets—four, perhaps, at the year's end: and she won't have me!'
'You have put the question?' said the doctor.
'Plump,' said the other. 'And she looked at first as if she was going to laugh. She didn't, though. Then she looked serious, and said she was sorry for me. She said she saw I was in earnest She knew I was a good son, and deserved a good wife; but she couldn't have me. Miss, said I, do you like anybody better? No, she said very heartily.'
'That is one comfort,' said the doctor.
'What comfort,' said the other, 'when she won't have me?'