"No, sir; nor yet half a minute. A farmer's a man, if he is not what you call a gentleman, and thinks as much of his people as the highest in the land. I dare say, in your high and mighty way, as our rector's son, and a gentleman who has been at college, you think you are stooping to notice my niece; so let me tell you, once for all, I don't think you are; and, what's more, it will be a far better man than you have shown yourself to be who gets my consent to make her his wife." "I can assure you, Mr Portlock--" began Cyril; but the farmer would not hear him. He was thoroughly angry, and his face flushed up a deep red. "And I can assure you, sir, that I want no such reckless, idling fellow seeking after my niece. We had bother enough when your brother was after Sage's sister. I tell you, then, plainly, once for all, that I won't have it; so don't show your face at my place again." He turned sharply round and strode off, leaving Cyril mortified and angry; for, in his way, he had felt that he was stooping, and falling away from his position, in noticing the little schoolmistress, so that this sharp rebuff came like a rude shock to his feelings, and made the end at which he aimed seem less likely to be achieved. "Confound his insolence!" he cried, as he saw the broad back of the farmer disappearing through his own gate. "It is too bad to be borne." But in a few minutes' time, as he walked slowly homeward, he began to smile and think over his position. "Let him talk and speak loud," he said. "I thought he was going to threaten me once. What does it matter? My father is dead against it, and he and Master Portlock will make common cause against me. But what does it matter when Aunt Portlock is on my side, and little Sage is as good as won? Then, as to madame, my poor mother? Pish! she will refuse me nothing. So, Master Churchwarden, I have three women on my side, and the game is mine, do what you like." He walked on a little way, amusing himself the while by thinking of the divided sides, and how much stronger his must be. "Let them fight us," he said, laughing. "We shall be four to two, and we must win; but stay, I had forgotten another enemy--Master Luke Ross. Poor fellow!" he said, contemptuously, "his chance against me is about the value of _nil_." PART ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. AFTER A PIPE. Mrs Portlock was in the great kitchen of the farm as Sage hurried through, and she stared with astonishment at the girl's excited way. "Why, heyday! Sage--" she began. "Don't stop me, aunt," cried Sage, excitedly; and, running up-stairs, she shut herself in the room, threw herself upon her knees by her bed, and covered her face with her hands, sobbing as if her heart would break. "She's been having a quarrel with him," said Mrs Portlock to herself, "or she wouldn't take on like that: They must be getting on then, or they wouldn't quarrel."