‘Why, the one I spoke to you of—about doing away with the pigs, you know,’ she returned faintly. ‘That there notion that I gi’e ye my advice agen?’ said Sharpe grimly. ‘Yes,’ hesitatingly. ‘I thought it over, as you told me to, and I did n’t think I could manage differently. I find I can sell the pigs all right, and Mr. Hardy has promised to try and dispose of my Blue Vinney cheeses.’ Isaac blew his nose, returned his handkerchief to his pocket, and stood up. ‘I’m glad to hear as ye can manage so well,’ he said sarcastically. ‘You don’t want no advice, that’s plain; and I sha’n’t never offer you none agen. I’ll wish ye good day, Mrs. Fiander.’ ‘Oh, don’t go away like that,’ cried she piteously. ‘Please don’t be offended with me. Such an old friend—’ At this moment a figure passed across the window, and a loud knock was heard at the house-door. Rosalie rushed to the door of the parlour. ‘Don’t let any one in, Susan,’ she cried. ‘Say I’m—I’m engaged. Stay at least a minute, Mr. Sharpe—I want to tell you—I want to explain.’ Throwing out one hand in pleading, she held open the parlour door an inch or two with the other, and presently the manly tones of Mr. Cross were heard through the chink. ‘I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Fiander is engaged. Will you kindly inform her that I will call next Sunday?’ ‘Tell him, Susan,’ said her mistress, opening the door a little way, and speaking under her breath—‘tell him that I am always engaged on Sunday.’ Susan was heard to impart this information, and then the visitor’s tones were heard again: ‘That’s a pity! Tell her, if you please, that I shall ’ope to have the pleasure of finding her at home some afternoon during the week.’ ‘I am always out in the afternoon,’ said Rosalie, speaking this time so decidedly that it was not necessary for Susan to repeat her words. ‘Oh!’ said the young man, addressing this time not the maid but the bright eye of which he caught a glimpse through the door, ‘then I shall take my chance of finding you in the morning.’ ‘I am too busy to see anyone in the morning,’ retorted Rosalie; and she shut the door with a finality which left Mr. Cross no option but to depart. ‘You see I do take your advice sometimes,’ said Rosalie, turning to Isaac, and speaking in a plaintive tone, though a little smile played about her mouth. Isaac’s back was towards her, and he made no reply; as she approached the burly form, however, she saw his shoulders heave, and presently, to her great relief, discovered that he was shaking with silent laughter. ‘Well, my dear, ye don’t do things by halves—I’ll say that for ’ee,’ he chuckled. You’ve a-got rid o’ that there chap, anyhow. He’ll not ax to come coortin’ again. Well, well, if ye manage as well in other ways I’ll not say that ye bain’t fit to look arter yourself.’ ‘But it was your advice, you know, Mr. Sharpe,’ she said demurely. ‘You gave me the hint about shutting the door.’