ly. She is
_Jack Benn's_ sister, and truly they be something like.

"Eh, Mistress _Nell_, dunna ye know?" saith _Isaac_, laughing feebly.
"Th' rosemary always thrives well where th' missis is th' master. Did
ye never hear yon saying?"

"Shut up wi' thy foolish saws!" saith _Mall_, a-turning round on him.
"He's a power of proverbs and saws, Mistress _Nell_, and he's for ever
and the day after a-thrustin' of 'em in. There's no wit i' such work."

"Eh, but there's a deal o' wit in some o' they old saws!" _Isaac_ makes
answer, of his slow fashion. "Look ye now,--`_Brag's_ a good dog, but
_Holdfast's_ better'--there's a true sayin' for ye. Then again look
ye,--`He that will have a hare to breakfast must hunt o'er night.' And
`A grunting horse and a groaning wife never fails their master.' Eh,
but that's true!" And old _Isaac_ laughed, of his feeble fashion, yet
again.

"There be some men like to make groaning wives," quoth _Mall_, crustily.
"They sit i' th' chimney-corner at their ease, and put ne'er a hand to
the work."

"That is not thy case, _Mall_," saith Aunt _Joyce_, cheerily. "So long
as he were able, I am well assured _Isaac_ took his share of the work.
And now ye be both infirm and stiff of the joints, what say ye to a good
sharp lass that should save your old bones? I know one that should come
but for her meat,--a good stirring maid that should not let the grass
grow under her feet. What sayest, _Mall_?"

"What, me?" saith _Mall_. "Eh, you'd best ask th' master. I am none
th' master here, howso the rosemary may thrive. I would say she should
ne'er earn the salt to her porridge; but I'm of no signification in this
house, as I well wis. You'd best ask o' them as is."

"Why, then, we mun gi'e th' porridge in," quoth _Isaac_. "Come, _Mall_,
thou know'st better, lass."

But old _Mary_, muttering somewhat we might not well hear, went forth to
fetch in a fresh armful of linen from the hedge.

"What hath put her out, _Isaac_?" asks Aunt _Joyce_.

"Eh, Mistress _Joyce_, there's no telling!" saith he. "'Tis not so much
as puts her in. She's easy put out, is _Mall_: and 'tis no good on
earth essaying to pull her in again. You'd best let her be. She'll
come in of hersen, when she's weary of threapin'." [Grumbling,
fault-finding.]

"I reckon thou art weary first, most times," saith _Aunt_.

"Well! I've ay kept a good heart up," quo' he. "`The still sow eateth
all the draff,' ye ken. I've