‘No, I don’t, Uncle Isaac! I say nothing of the kind,’ put in the young man hastily. ‘If you intended to remain a bachelor it would be a different matter, but—’ ‘I’m not axing you to live wi’ me,’ returned Isaac, throwing out his hand in a lordly manner. ‘If I was a-goin’ to keep single it ’ud come nat’ral enough, but my new missus—Well, ’t is this way. She have got a house of her own, and she’s anxious for me to live over there along o’ her.’ ‘I see,’ said Richard, looking rather astonished, however. ‘’Ees, I were agen it at first, but I come round to it arter. So I reckoned to let this here house to somebody—one of the men, p’r’aps; but now has you’ve a-comed back, Richard, my boy, there bain’t nobody I’d like to see livin’ here so much as yourself. My notion ’ud be for you to settle down wi’ a wife to do for you and keep the place tidy, and work this here farm under me. My hands ’ull be pretty full, and I’ll be glad o’ your help. _She’s_ got a biggish place to manage, and I’ll be glad to think as there’s somebody here as I can rely on. Well, what do you say?’ ‘What do I say?’ cried Richard, stammering with joy. ‘What can I say? I don’t know how to thank you!’ ‘Well,’ said the farmer jovially; ‘and now, what about the missus? ’Ave ’ee got your eye on anyone as ’ud suit?’ ‘Why,’ began Richard eagerly; he paused, and then continued laughingly, ‘you must give me a little time, you know. I’ve only been a few days in England.’ ‘That’s true. I’m glad to think, my lad, as you don’t want to take a wife from abroad. Nay, don’t ye go travellin’ for a wife. Take my word for ’t, the best is often to be picked up close at hand. Not always, though,’ he continued, reflectively. ‘Poor Elias Fiander—ye mind ’Lias Fiander? He went travellin’ all the way to Dorchester to buy a turmit-hoin’ machine, and it was there, nigh upon eighteen miles off, as he come across his last missus. But you know her,’ he went on with animation—‘aye, now as I call it to mind, you were a-tellin’ me how you drove her back to-day. Ah, sure, so ye did.’ ‘Yes,’ said Richard quickly; ‘yes, I told you all about that.’ ‘Ah, so ye did. ’Twere funny how you come across her. I be pleased to think as ye’ve met. She were a good missus to Elias—she were, indeed—and a good missus to one man is like to be a good one to another.’ Richard caught his breath and leaned forward; his face was flushed, his eyes shining. ‘Why do you say this to me now?’ he said eagerly. His uncle removed his pipe from his mouth, took a sip of punch, and then looked at him solemnly. ‘Because, Richard, my boy, ’t is but nat’ral I should talk of her, seein’ as we be goin’ to be man an’ wife so soon.’ ‘What do you mean?’ cried Richard, almost violently. ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘Why,’ returned Isaac, raising his voice to a kind of mild roar, ‘you have n’t been listenin’ to me. I’ve been a-talkin’ about Mrs. Fiander—’Lias’s widow. I be a-goin’ to get married to she!’