"A firm man, an' loves his mother out the common well. A gude son, a gude husband, a gude faither, a hard worker. How many men's all that to wance, Miller?" "He is so--all--an' yet--the man have got his faults, speaking generally." "That's awnly to say he be a man; an' if you caan't find words for the faults, 't is clear they ban't worth namin'." "I can find words easy enough, I assure 'e; but a man's a fule to waste breath criticising the ways of a son to his mother--if so be he's a gude son." "What fault theer is belongs to me. I was set on his gwaine to Newtake as master, like his gran'faither afore him. I urged the step hot, and I liked the thought of it." "So did he--else he wouldn't have gone." "You caan't say that. He might have done different but for love of me. 'T is I as have stood in his way in this thing." "Doan't fret yourself with such a thought, Mrs. Blanchard; Will's the sort as steers his awn ship. Theer's no blame 'pon you. An' for that matter, if your faither saved gude money at Newtake, why caan't Will?" "Times be changed. You've got to make two blades o' grass graw wheer wan did use, if you wants to live nowadays." "Hard work won't hurt him." "But it will if he reckons't is all wasted work. What's more bitter than toiling to no account, an' _knawin_ all the while you be?" "Not all wasted work, surely?" "They wouldn't allow it for the world. He's that gay afore me, an' Phoebe keeps a stiff upper lip, tu; but I go up unexpected now an' again an' pop in unawares an' sees the truth. You with your letter or message aforehand, doan't find out nothing, an' won't." "He'm out o' luck, I allow. What's the exact reason?" "You'll find it in the Book, same as I done. I knaw you set gert store 'pon the Word. Well, then, 'them the Lard loveth He chasteneth.' That's why Will's languishin' like. 'T won't last for ever." "Ah! But theer's other texts to other purpose. Not that I want 'e to dream my Phoebe's less to me than your son to you. I've got my eye on 'em, an' that's the truth; an' on my li'l grandson, tu." "Theer's gert things buddin' in that bwoy." "I hope so. I set much store on him. Doan't you worrit, mother, for the party to Newtake be bound up very close wi' my happiness, an' if they was wisht, ban't me as would long be merry. I be gwaine to give Master Will rope enough to hang himself, having a grudge or two against him yet; then, when the job's done, an' he's learnt the hard lesson to the dregs, I'll cut un down in gude time an' preach a sarmon to him while he's in a mood to larn wisdom. He's picking up plenty of information, you be sure--things that will be useful bimebye: the value of money, the shortness o' the distance it travels, the hardness o' Moor ground, an' men's hearts, an' such-like branches of larning. Let him bide, an' trust me."