"It only wants a little looking into," said Peter to himself, "and then you can find out anything. I can see it all now. And do they think they are going to deceive me? No, I've boiled down and purified too much not to be able to separate the wrong from the right. She's going to ask him if he means to marry her instead of Miss Richards, and if he don't, she'll fall back on me. But she won't, for I don't mean to be fallen on, and so I tell her." "Here we are," said Keziah, stopping short in front of Mr Brough's house. "Yes, here we are," said Peter, with what he meant for a searching look. "Now, look here, Peter," said Keziah, "I'm going to see Mr Brough, and you'll wait outside till I come back." "But what are you going for?" said Peter. There was no reply save what was conveyed in a hitch of Keziah's shawl, and then, her summons being responded to, she entered, leaving Peter perspiring on the door-step, brandishing the great umbrella and peering at the door with eyes that threatened to pierce the wood--varnish, paint, and all. Meanwhile, Keziah was ushered into the room where Tom Brough was seated, rosy and hearty, over his decanter and glass. "Well, Keziah," he said, "and how are all at home? Take a chair." The visitor did not condescend to reply until the door was shut, when, folding her arms, she stood looking at him with a fierce uncompromising aspect. "I've come about that poor girl," she said at last. "About what poor girl?" said Tom Brough. "That poor girl whose heart's being broken up into tiny bits by you and him--her father," cried Keziah, fiercely, "and I've come to know if you ain't ashamed of yourself. There, hold your tongue, and listen to what I've got to say; I haven't said anything to him at home, because it's like talking to stone and marbles. But I've come to talk to you." "Talk away, then," said Tom Brough, pleasantly. "I'm going to," said Keziah, angrily, "and don't you think, Mr Brough, that you're going to get rid of me like that, because you are not, so now then. This marriage can't go on." "Why not?" said Tom Brough, offering a glass of wine, which was refused. "Because I'm not going to see my darling that I've nursed and tended ever since she was a baby driven into her grave to please you. There, keep off--gracious, if the man isn't mad!"