“I’m very glad you feel it so,” answered Philander, “because it’s true. I have took a lot of trouble, Ned, and I’ve spared no pains to bring this about, because well I knew from my experience of life that it was the best that could possibly happen for all concerned. And once convinced them two were innocent as babes, I set myself to save the situation, as they say. And I’ve helped you to do so; and it ain’t a figure of speech to say I’m well paid by results. But that’s not all there is to it. There was something up my sleeve too. I had another iron in the fire for myself. In a word, you can pay me handsome for all my trouble if you’ll recognise that and lend me a hand in a certain quarter. Need I say what quarter? As you know, Mrs. Trivett’s very much addicted to me, and she’d marry me to-morrow if a mistaken call of duty didn’t keep her in that breeding pen known as Priory Farm. Well, I put it to you whether you won’t help me same as I helped you. One good turn deserves another—eh?” “I’d go to the end of the world to help you, Knox. But what can I do?” “You don’t see? I’ll tell you then. It sounds a bit strong, but it’s safe enough and it’ll do the trick. Above all you needn’t feel a speck of fear, because your mother-in-law has a very fine affection for me, and to marry me will really be a great delight to her—that I assure you.” “What must I do then?” “Merely tell Medora you don’t look at her again unless Mrs. Trivett changes her name to Mrs. Knox. I’m not asking a difficult or troublesome thing. In fact, you needn’t lift a finger in the matter. You can safely leave it to Medora. She’ll praise God on her knees for a month of Sundays when she hears the grand ideas in your mind, and when you state the condition—there you are: she’ll be on to her mother like a flame of fire, and Lydia will mighty soon see her duty.” Ned Dingle laughed. “Lord, you’re a deep one!” he said. “Not me. Far from it. Just ordinary common sense, and a great natural regard for Medora’s mother. Mind, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a dead cert.” “It shall be done,” answered the younger man. “You’re a double chap, Knox, though you do claim to be so simple, and I’d rather have you for a friend than an enemy.” “I’ll be your friend as long as I live, I promise you—and your wife also. A very good father-in-law you’ll find me.” They went to the door together and as Knox was about to depart, there came a swift foot down the lane. It was Jordan Kellock on his homeward way. He stopped, seeing the men at the gate. “I was going to call first thing to-morrow, Mr. Dingle,” he said, “but since you’re here I can speak now.” “And give me an arm afterwards,” declared Knox. For the moon had set and it was very dark.