Cytherea was rather disconcerted at finding that the gradual cessation of the chopping of the mill was on her account, and still more when she saw all the cider-makers’ eyes fixed upon her except Mr. Springrove’s, whose natural delicacy restrained him. She neared the plot of grass, but instead of advancing further, hesitated on its border. Mr. Springrove perceived her embarrassment, which was relieved when she saw his old-established figure coming across to her, wiping his hands in his apron. ‘I know your errand, missie,’ he said, ‘and am glad to see you, and attend to it. I’ll step indoors.’ ‘If you are busy I am in no hurry for a minute or two,’ said Cytherea. ‘Then if so be you really wouldn’t mind, we’ll wring down this last filling to let it drain all night?’ ‘Not at all. I like to see you.’ ‘We are only just grinding down the early pickthongs and griffins,’ continued the farmer, in a half-apologetic tone for detaining by his cider-making any well-dressed woman. ‘They rot as black as a chimney-crook if we keep ‘em till the regulars turn in.’ As he spoke he went back to the press, Cytherea keeping at his elbow. ‘I’m later than I should have been by rights,’ he continued, taking up a lever for propelling the screw, and beckoning to the men to come forward. ‘The truth is, my son Edward had promised to come to-day, and I made preparations; but instead of him comes a letter: “London, September the eighteenth, Dear Father,” says he, and went on to tell me he couldn’t. It threw me out a bit.’ ‘Of course,’ said Cytherea. ‘He’s got a place ‘a b’lieve?’ said the clerk, drawing near. ‘No, poor mortal fellow, no. He tried for this one here, you know, but couldn’t manage to get it. I don’t know the rights o’ the matter, but willy-nilly they wouldn’t have him for steward. Now mates, form in line.’ Springrove, the clerk, the grinders, and Gad, all ranged themselves behind the lever of the screw, and walked round like soldiers wheeling. ‘The man that the old quean hev got is a man you can hardly get upon your tongue to gainsay, by the look o’ en,’ rejoined Clerk Crickett. ‘One o’ them people that can contrive to be thought no worse o’ for stealen a horse than another man for looken over hedge at en,’ said a grinder. ‘Well, he’s all there as steward, and is quite the gentleman--no doubt about that.’ ‘So would my Ted ha’ been, for the matter o’ that,’ the farmer said. ‘That’s true: ‘a would, sir.’ ‘I said, I’ll give Ted a good education if it do cost me my eyes, and I would have done it.’ ‘Ay, that you would so,’ said the chorus of assistants solemnly. ‘But he took to books and drawing naturally, and cost very little; and as a wind-up the womenfolk hatched up a match between him and his cousin.’ ‘When’s the wedden to be, Mr. Springrove?’