‘I suppose, now that you are here, you’ll remain some time, Mr. Marshall?’ she asked, without looking round; her voice in consequence sounding nearly as muffled as the young man’s own as she bent over her cauldron. ‘That depends, Mrs. Fiander. Of course I want to see as much as I can of my uncle, but I’m restless by nature, and—and I never stay very long in one place.’ ‘There now,’ cried Isaac, in loud remonstrance. ‘What, ye be at it again, be ye? Did n’t we arguefy enough about it last night? I’ll not take No, an’ so I tell ’ee! Ye’ve a-comed home, and now ye may bide at home. Lard, I did n’t think ye could be sich a voolish chap. What need have ye to go travellin’ the world when ye have a good berth offered ye, an’ them that’s al’ays been your friends ready an’ anxious to keep ye? Here’s Mrs. F. will tell ’ee the same as I do, won’t ’ee, my dear?’ ‘I don’t quite understand what it is all about,’ said Rosalie, pausing in her labours, however, and straightening herself. Why, ’t is this way,’ explained the farmer. ‘When Richard come last night he says to me, says he, “I’ve been a-longing for years an’ years to get back to the wold place. An’ now,” says he, “I d’ feel as if I could n’t settle to naught but the old work. Farm-work,” he says. “Well then, this here house ’ull be empty afore very long; an’, moreover,” says I, “I shall need to have somebody responsible to look after this place,” for it stands to reason, Mrs. F., as I can’t be in two places at one time.’ Rosalie endorsed this statement with an inarticulate murmur, and he continued: ‘“Well, then,” says I, “since you want to come back to the wold place an’ take up the farm-work, why not live here and work for I?”’ ‘Why not, indeed?’ said Rosalie. ‘Jist what I d’ say,’ said the farmer indignantly; ‘why not? First he were quite took wi’ the notion, but arter a bit he did n’t seem to relish it. Now I want to know,’ pursued Isaac, extending an aggrieved forefinger, ‘why don’t ’ee relish it, Richard?’ ‘Suppose you should be disappointed in me—suppose I should n’t give you satisfaction?’ said Richard hesitatingly. ‘Pooh! nonsense! I’ll let ’ee know fast enough if ye don’t give satisfaction. Have n’t I brought ’ee up? Bain’t he much same as a son to I?’ ‘But if—if I should find I could n’t settle, then you’d be more vexed than if I had n’t given in to the plan.’ ‘But why should n’t ’ee settle, that’s what I want to know? Ax ’en that, Mrs. F., ax ’en why he should n’t settle? Ha’n’t ’ee travelled enough?’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Rosalie, ‘I should think you ought to be glad of a little quiet, Mr. Marshall.’ ‘Well said!’ cried Isaac. ‘Tell ’en he’ll be a fool if he lets my offer slip.’ ‘Indeed,’ repeated Rosalie, gazing in surprise from the heated and excited countenance of the elder man to the inscrutable one of his nephew—‘indeed I think Mr. Marshall would be very unwise if he did not accept it. It seems to me entirely to his advantage.’