"And goes forth in the morning, and is cast into the oven, ma’am," continued her antagonist. "Ah, bless thee, yes!" the farmer replied, "I’ll take my gospel oath of it. It’s not much good I am at parsoning, and maybe I likes a drop of drink when the weather is fitty; but that young chestnut filly that’s just come home from breaking, I’d sell her to a gipsey, and trust him for the money, if so be ’twould make the young lady turn her face to the Lord. Can’t ye speak to her now about it, either of you women? Doo’e now, doo’e." "How could I possible?" his wife exclaimed; "why, farmer, you must be mazed. A high young lady like that, and the tears still hot in her eyes!" "The very reason, wife, the very time and reason. But likely Mrs. Maples would be the proper person." "Thank you, sir," my nurse replied, "Mrs. Maples knows good manners a little. Thank you, sir; Mrs. Maples wasn’t born in Devonshire." "I ask your pardon, ma’am," said the farmer, much abashed, "I humbly ask your pardon; I wasn’t taught no better. I can only go by what I have seen, and what seems to come inside of me. And I know, in our way of business, when a calf is weaned from the mother, the poor beastess hath a call for some one else to feed it. Maybe it’s no harm to let her have the refusal." Therewith he opened my mother’s Bible, and placed it reverently on the window-seat. "Waife, do’e mind the time as poor Aunt Betsy died, over there to Rowley Mires?" "For sure I do, but what have her got to do with it? Us mustn’t talk of her, I reckon, any more than of the chillers, though us be so unlucky as to be born in Devonshire. Fie, fie, thee ought to know better than to talk of poor Aunt Betsy along of a lady, and before our betters." Here she curtsied to Ann Maples, with a flash of light in her eyes, and rubbing them hard with her apron. "Well, well," replied the farmer, sadly, "mayhap so I did. And who be I to gainsay? Mayhap so I did;" he dropped his voice, but added, after some reflection, "It be hard to tell the rights of it; but sure her were a woman." "Who said her were a man, thee zany?" Mrs. Huxtable was disappointed that the case would not be argued. The farmer discreetly changed the subject. "Now, if it was me," he continued, "I wouldn’t think of taking this here settle-bed away from the poor thing." "Why not, farmer?" asked Mrs. Huxtable, sharply. "Give me a reason for leaving it, and I’ll give you ten for taking it." "I can’t give no reasons. But maybe it comforts her a little." "Comfort indeed!" said his wife; "breaks her heart with, crying, more likely. Come, lend a hand, old heavy-strap; what can a great dromedary like thee know about young wenches?" At any rate he knew more than she did. The moment they touched it I burst forth from my corner, and flung myself upon it, rolling as if I would bury myself in the ecstasy of anguish. What they did I cannot tell; they might say what they liked, I had not cried till then.