“Best put ‘Miss Pethin’” suggested Rose Gillingham, one of the dairymaids. “He do never call her anything but Hannah,” retorted Lizzie; “an’ they’ve been workin’ together now for nigh upon ten year.” “That’s the very reason she’ll think he’s more in earnest-like; she’ll be terr’ble pleased if he treats her so respectful.” There was something in that, the others agreed, and even Lizzie gave way, and it was decided that the amorous document should begin after the somewhat distant fashion suggested by Rose. “Well now,” resumed Lizzie—“‘I write these few lines to say as I’ve been a-turnin’ over somethin’ in my mind, as I hope you’ll be glad to hear. Bein’ a widow-man, I feels mysel’ by times at a terr’ble loss, an’ I be wishful to take a second—’” “Bain’t that comin’ to the p’int a bit too quick?” interrupted Rose. “Lord, no!” interpolated Jem very quickly. “Mercy me, it’ll take I all my time to get that much in. We have but the one sheet of paper, look see; an’ there’ll be a deal o’ writin’ in what ye’ve thought on a’ready.” “‘There’s nobody,’” went on Lizzie, disregarding both disputants, “‘my dear Miss Pethin, what I could like better to fill the empty post nor yourself—’” “I never knowed a post could be empty,” said some facetious bystander, who was, however, nudged and hushed into silence. “‘I do think you the vittiest maid in the whole o’ Dorset,’” pursued the intrepid author, being unable, however, to proceed with her composition for some moments, owing to the storm of ironical applause; for, indeed, the destined recipient of this tender document was not only “a staid ’ooman,” but had never, at any period of her life, possessed any claim to good looks. “‘If ye think well on my offer, will ye meet I at the Little Wood at breakfast-time to-morrow? But, as I’m a shy man by natur’, I’d thank ye not to say nothin’ about me havin’ wrote to ye. “‘Your true and faithful, “‘GILES NEALE.’” When the hubbub of applause had subsided, a match was duly lighted, and Jem set to work. His task concluded, after much labour and consequent burning of matches, the document was read aloud, directed, and handed over to Lizzie, who undertook to slip it under Hannah’s door before retiring to rest herself. “If she do say anythin’ to I about it, I’ll tell her I did hear a man’s foot goin’ through the cheese-room very late,” she added, giggling. “Well, then, us’ll all post ourselves behind the hedge at back o’ the Little Wood,” cried Rose, jubilantly; “an’ then us’ll all run out an’ call ‘April Fools!’ so soon as they’ve a-made it up.” “’Ees,” agreed Lizzie, “but don’t you sp’ile sport by runnin’ out too soon. Best wait till brewery whooter goes, an’ then all run out together—that’s the ticket.”