‘You!’ exclaimed his nephew in the same loud fierce tone. ‘’Ees,’ bellowed Farmer Sharpe. ‘Have n’t I been a-tellin’ ye this hour and more? Did n’t I say I were a-goin’ to change my state, and did n’t I tell ’ee she’d a house of her own and wanted me to live over there along of her? But your brains was wool-gatherin’—I’ll lay a shillin’ you was a-thinkin’ o’ your own young woman!’ cried Isaac, with a roar of laughter, stretching forward a long arm that he might give his nephew a facetious dig on the nearest available portion of his person. Richard laughed too, spasmodically, and with a wry face. ‘You’re a sly dog, Uncle Isaac,’ he said. ‘Ah, you’re a cunning old chap—you’ve got your wits about you if mine have gone astray! Yes, and you’ve very good taste too—you’ve picked out the greatest beauty in Dorset.’ ‘Except your young woman, eh?’ put in Isaac, with a chuckle and another dig. ‘Except my young woman, of course,’ agreed Richard, laughing again with that odd contortion of the face. ‘But I have n’t found her yet, you know.’ ‘My weddin’-day is fixed for the end o’ Ju—ly,’ said his uncle ruminatively. You’ll have to look out for your missus afore that time. I doubt as you and Bithey ’ud scarce get on so very well—I’m used to her, you see, but she’s a cranky old body, and it ’ud never do for ye to settle down wi’out a woman o’ some kind to do for ’ee. We might ha’ the two weddin’s same day: I’d like to know as you was settled when I have to shift.’ ‘Thank you kindly, uncle; you’ve always been like a father to me, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for the welcome you’ve given me, and for wanting to do so much for me. But I don’t know about settling down after all—I’ve been a rover so long, you see, I—I might n’t be able to stick to it and then you might be disappointed.’ ‘Stuff an’ nonsense! I’ll not hear o’ no objections. Why, Richard, you never were one to blow hot one minute and cold the next. It bain’t half an hour since you said there was naught you wished for so much as to take up farm-work again and live on the old place—did n’t ’ee?’ ‘Yes, but—’ ‘But nothin’! You’re a-wool-gatherin’—that’s it. Your thoughts is a-wanderin’ off to the new missus.’ ‘Is not that to be expected?’ returned his nephew idly. Resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands he leaned forward, gazing thoughtfully into the fire: ‘I have n’t got over my surprise at your piece of news yet,’ he said, after a pause. ‘I thought you so determined a bachelor.’ ‘So I thought myself,’ put in Isaac with a nod. ‘And then—from what I’ve seen of Mrs. Fiander I should never have imagined that she would be the wife you would choose when you did make up your mind to take one.’ ‘Why so?’ inquired Isaac, somewhat roughly. ‘She’s so young—forty years younger than you, I should think.’ ‘Thirty-nine,’ corrected his uncle succinctly.