"Nay lad, did'st ever hear tell of a clever housekeeper?"
Bert scratched his head but failed to recall such a phenomenon.
"You see," explained the shepherd gleefully, "all clever housekeepers marries their masters. Y'can't get round women. They scores all ways."
"Ah'm not denying they scores," said the red-bearded woman-hater. "What I asks is—why do we let'em? Because we're fond fools! That's why. Take any man you like an' any woman you like and set'em to do t' same job, and ye'll find t' woman fair beat before they've been at it ten minutes. Talk about women's reets—if they had their reets they'd all be shut up in their houses wi' their bairns!"
"Missus been a bit pawky to-day, Eli?" inquired Dawson with a quizzical glance at the fiery orator.
The company nodded in sympathy. They knew the humour of a wife's tongue when the wind was easterly and the Christmas rent due, and another addition to the family expected. Eli Waite's domestic troubles had been a welcome topic at many similar gatherings, so, though he was unpopular and suspected as an extremist, to-night his audience was inclined to be gracious. But Eli disappointed those who hoped to hear further details of the Waite household. He changed the conversation.
"There's rare goings on up at t' Robsons to-night they say."
"Ay," replied Dawson, taking another drink. "T' family stayed on to tea, and health drinking and the like. Violet let me see table when I was up salting bacon this after' an' giv'd me a bit o' t' cake."
"And a drop o' whisky ah'll be bound," laughed old Deane. "Noo then, Shep, tell t' truth and shame t' devil."
"Ay. Mebbe a drop o' whisky. Allus keep in wi't women ah says."