“Without waiting for that time, which I trust may never occur, I can recognize the wisdom of your excellent wife’s observation. My own opinion is, that a woman can more easily do mischief to her own sex than to ours; since, of course, she cannot exist without doing mischief to somebody or other.” “And good, too,” said the jovial farmer, thumping his fist on the table. “What should we be without women?” “Very much better, I take it, sir. Adam was as good as gold, and never had a qualm of conscience or stomach till Eve seduced him into eating raw apples.” “Young man, thou’st been crossed in love. I see it now. That’s why thou look’st so sorrowful.” “Sorrowful! Did you ever know a man crossed in love who looked less sorrowful when he came across a pudding?” “Hey! but thou canst ply a good knife and fork, that I will say for thee.” Here the farmer turned round, and gazed on Kenelm with deliberate scrutiny. That scrutiny accomplished, his voice took a somewhat more respectful tone, as he resumed, “Do you know that you puzzle me somewhat?” “Very likely. I am sure that I puzzle myself. Say on.” “Looking at your dress and--and--” “The two shillings you gave me? Yes--” “I took you for the son of some small farmer like myself. But now I judge from your talk that you are a college chap,--anyhow, a gentleman. Be n’t it so?” “My dear Mr. Saunderson, I set out on my travels, which is not long ago, with a strong dislike to telling lies. But I doubt if a man can get along through this world without finding that the faculty of lying was bestowed on him by Nature as a necessary means of self-preservation. If you are going to ask me any questions about myself, I am sure that I shall tell you lies. Perhaps, therefore, it may be best for both if I decline the bed you proffered me, and take my night’s rest under a hedge.” “Pooh! I don’t want to know more of a man’s affairs than he thinks fit to tell me. Stay and finish the haymaking. And I say, lad, I’m glad you don’t seem to care for the girls; for I saw a very pretty one trying to flirt with you, and if you don’t mind she’ll bring you into trouble.” “How? Does she want to run away from her uncle?” “Uncle! Bless you, she don’t live with him! She lives with her father; and I never knew that she wants to run away. In fact, Jessie Wiles--that’s her name--is, I believe, a very good girl, and everybody likes her,--perhaps a little too much; but then she knows she’s a beauty, and does not object to admiration.” “No woman ever does, whether she’s a beauty or not. But I don’t yet understand why Jessie Wiles should bring me into trouble.” “Because there is a big hulking fellow who has gone half out of his wits for her; and when he fancies he sees any other chap too sweet on her he thrashes him into a jelly. So, youngster, you just keep your skin out of that trap.” “Hem! And what does the girl say to those proofs of affection? Does she like the man the better for thrashing other admirers into jelly?”