He was a thin, prim bachelor of sixty—a man of nice habits and finicking mind. There was much of the old maid in him, too, and he gossiped inordinately, but never unkindly. He knew the life history, family interests and private ambitions of everybody in the Mill. He smelt mystery where none existed and much feared the modern movements and threats of labour. Especially was he doubtful of Jordan Kellock and regarded him as a dangerous and too progressive spirit. His interest in other people’s affairs now appeared; for he had come to see Lydia; he had climbed “The Corkscrew” on Sunday from most altruistic motives. “The better the day the better the deed,” he said. “I’ve walked over for a cup of tea and a talk, because a little bird’s told me something I don’t much like, Mrs. Trivett, and it concerns you in a manner of speaking.” “You always keep to the point, Mr. Pinhey; and I dare say I know what the point is for that matter. Come in. We can talk very well, because we shall be alone in a minute.” Nicholas followed her into the parlour, a room of good size on the left hand side of the entrance. They surprised Mrs. Dolbear nodding beside the fire. She liked Mr. Pinhey, but she was glad of the excuse to leave them and retire to her own room. She shook hands with the visitor, who hoped she found herself as well as could be expected. “Oh, yes,” she said. “I take these things from whence they come. I feel no fear except in one particular.” “I won’t believe it,” he declared. “You’ve got the courage to fight lions and the faith to move mountains. We all know that. If the women in general would come to the business of the next generation with your fearless nature, we might hear less about the decrease of the population.” “It’s not my part I trouble about; it’s the Lord’s,” explained Mrs. Dolbear. “If I have another girl, it’ll break Tom’s heart. Six maids and one boy is the record so far, though of the two we’ve buried, one was a boy. And such is my perfect trust in myself, if I could choose what I want from the Almighty at this moment, it would be two men children.” “Magnificent!” said Mr. Pinhey. “I take Lydia to witness I speak no more than the truth,” replied the matron. “But these things are out of our keeping, though Tom read in a paper some time since a remarkable verdict, that if a woman with child ate enough green stuff, she might count on a boy.” “That’s a painful subject,” said Lydia, “and you’d better not talk about it, Polly.”