did, from the way he goeth jumping about forever, and never
hold fast to anything. A nice thing 'twould be for the fools to say,
perpetual motion come from Anerley Farm!"

"You never will think any good of him, Stephen, because his mind comes
from my side. But wait till you see the 10,000 pounds."

"That I will; and thank the Lord to live so long. But, to come to
common-sense--how was Mary and Harry a-carrying on this afternoon?"

"Not so very bad, father; and nothing good to speak of. He kept on very
well from the corners of his eyes; but she never corresponded, so to
speak--same as--you know."

"The same as you used to do when you was young. Well, manners may be
higher stylish now. Did he ask her about the hay-rick?"

"That he did. Three or four times over; exactly as you said it to him.
He knew that was how you got the upper hand of me, according to your
memory, but not mine; and he tried to do it the very same way; but the
Lord makes a lot of change in thirty years of time. Mary quite turned
her nose up at any such riddle, and he pulled his spotted handkerchief
out of that new hat of his, and the fagot never saw fit to heed even the
color of his poor red cheeks. Stephen, you would have marched off for a
week if I had behaved to you so."

"And the right way too; I shall put him up to that. Long sighs only
leads to turn-up noses. He plays too knuckle-down at it. You should
go on with your sweetheart very mild at first; just a-feeling for her
finger-tips; and emboldening of her to believe that you are frightened,
and bringing her to peep at you as if you was a blackbird, ready to pop
out of sight. That makes 'em wonderful curious and eager, and sticks you
into 'em, like prickly spinach. But you mustn't stop too long like that.
You must come out large, as a bull runs up to gate; and let them see
that you could smash it if you liked, but feel a goodness in your heart
that keeps you out of mischief. And then they comes up, and they says,
'poor fellow!'"

"Stephen, I do not approve of such expressions, or any such low
opinions. You may know how you went on. Such things may have answered
once; because of your being--yourself, you know. But Mary, although she
may not have my sense, must have her own opinions. And the more you talk
of what we used to do--though I never remember your trotting up, like
a great bull roaring, to any kind of gate--the less I feel inclined to
force her. And who is Harry Tanfield, after all?