“Will ye ax ’em rough-like, or will ye ax ’em civil?” he inquired, after ruminating for a while. “Why, of course I shall be civil, Mr. Fowler.” “Will ye ax ’em so civil as ye did ax I?” he insisted with a kind of roar. “I’m sure I don’t know,” stammered the girl, taken aback for a moment. “Yes,” recovering herself, “certainly I shall. There’s no reason why I should make any difference between you and anybody else.” “You tell I that to my face! You’ll go a-speakin’ ’em soft and a-smilin’ at ’em pretty, jist same as ye did do to I! Dalled if I do allow it! Dalled if I do, I say!” “Really, Mr. Fowler,” said Bethia with spirit, “I don’t know what you mean. It’s very rude of you to talk to me like that, and I do not see why you should interfere. I shall be business-like and polite, as I always try to be with every one, and I shall be firm too. The Law will support me just the same as if I were a man.” “Dalled if I do allow it,” repeated Jacob, still in a kind of muffled bellow. “A British ratepayer I be, and have a-been this twenty year and more, and I say I bain’t a-goin’ to allow it. I know my rights so well as any man, and I bain’t a-goin’ to be put upon by a ’ooman. I bain’t a-goin’ to allow any young faymale to be took out of her proper place and set up where she’s no business to be. I’ll have no faymale tax-collectors a-gaddin’ about this here parish if I can prevent it. I’ll protest, maid, see if I don’t, and, what’s more, not one farden o’ rates will I pay into any faymale hands.” Bethia, more and more irritated by his manner, thought it time to assert herself finally; and withdrawing her hands from the basin of peas, and looking him full in the face, she returned, with great firmness, “Won’t you, Mr. Fowler? Then I’ll make you.” “Lard ha’ mercy me! Listen to the maid!” exclaimed Jacob, bursting into a fit of ironical laughter. “‘I’ll make ye,’ says she. Look at her,” pointing at the girl’s slender form. “That be a good un! I tell ’ee, Miss Masters, you’ll find it a bit hard to make I do anything I’ve not got a mind to do.” Bethia took up a pod again and split it viciously. “I’ve got the Law at my back,” she remarked. “Ho! ho! ho!” chuckled Jacob, this time with unfeigned merriment. “Listen to her! The Law at her back indeed! Such a little small back it be! Why, maidy, I could jist finish ye off wi’ one finger!” “I’m not talking of brute force,” said Bethia, with flashing eyes. “The Law is stronger than you, Mr. Fowler. Now, if you’ll kindly go away and let me get on with my work, I’ll be much obliged.”