Hewson was panting a bit as he kept pace up the road beside his great, long-limbed companion, for the air was coming briskly from the west, and the first frosts were falling at night, and he was asthmatic. “Ye didn’t ought to be out o’ nights now it’s turned so sharp,” said his companion kindly. “A man can’t afford to think o’ such things,” said Hewson. “Well, leastways when there bain’t no need,” allowed the miller. “And ye didn’t so much as put a drop inside ye at the bar to warm ye up for the job.” “I scarce ever touches sperrits,” said Hewson quietly. “Martha, she don’t think it’s right.” The miller stopped short in the road and stared at his comrade; but they were in a wood now, and he couldn’t see his face. “Martha, be——” he began. But he dropped a brown-paper parcel that he was carrying and he turned the phrase into: “Drat the thing——” as he stooped to pick it up. “Yes, Martha don’t think it’s right, nor she don’t think it’s ’olesome neither,” repeated the feebler man slowly, Moss laughed long and loudly. “Well, I be blessed if I’d go blowin’ up this ’ill as you be a-doin’ then,” said he at last. “No, not to fetch any woman under the sun, if she wouldn’t allow me a swaller first to put the ’eart into my stomach, so to speak! Ye be too easy, mate. Bain’t she well and ’earty and fit to look arter ’erself?” “Oh, she be well and ’earty enough,” allowed the husband. “I don’t know as I iver see’d a ’eartier gal. But ... well, ye see, Martha don’t think small beer of ’erself, and she _be_ a fine woman, ye’ll allow.” “Oh, she be a fine woman and no mistake,” allowed the miller, smiling to himself. “I often wonders what it was made ’er take to the likes o’ me,” went on the other, “for I bain’t no catch. And I allers feels I ought to make it up to ’er, so to speak. But I don’t deny it do come a bit ’ard o’ times.” “A bit of a Tartar, eh?” asked Moss confidentially. “I won’t go so far as to say that,” replied the henpecked one as who should refuse to admit a thing that he feared might be true. “She be a just woman, she be, but she bain’t just what ye might call a gentle un’. I’ve sometimes thought as she be too clever.” “Ah. I don’t know as I care for ’em so clever as all that,” said the miller. “I shouldn’t like a wife cleverer nor myself, now. But there be them as gives up, like, every minute, and that bain’t all fun neither. Why, Lor’ bless me, there be some women want ye to be at their elber to ’elp ’em tell whether the milk be sour or no. It be real contrairy o’ times. Ye be forced to go out-doors to get a minute’s peace.” “What, talk at ye twenty to the dozen?” asked Hewson feelingly. “Not so much talk as whine at ye! Make ye believe ye’re a downright brute afore they’ve done. Till ye be forced to go and get a glass o’ beer into ye to see things straight agin.” “Talkin’ be wuss,” said Hewson simply. “Ah, ye ’aven’t tried whinin’,” retorted Moss. “You wait till you ’ave!”