“Leave her—you never know what the young can do, and what they can’t do. I’m here about you, not her. We’ve not known each other above six months, but knowledge of our fellow creatures ain’t a matter of time. ’Tis understanding of character and like to like and so on. Another, finding you in trouble to-day, would hold off no doubt. But, just because you are in trouble, I’m going to hold on and say what I came to say. I respect and admire you very much out of the common, Mrs. Trivett, and I feel that it’s a crying shame to see you in this rabbit hutch, living the life of a maid-of-all-work for other people, when you ought to be the mistress of your own home. I say you ought to have a man to work for you, and look after you, and not let you toil and wear your fingers to the bone, either here, over your brother’s children, or in the rag shop. Your sense of justice must cry out against it, and so it ought and I feel it very much to heart. You drew me, from the first minutes I set eyes on you, for I saw all that you were and found, as I knew you better, you were even better than I thought. And, in a word, if you’ll throw over these Dolbears and come to me, I can promise a very faithful and friendly husband and one who will make it his first business and pleasure in life to give you a good time. ’Tis thought silly of a man over fifty-two to speak of love; but rest assured that such a man knows a darned sight more about it than green youth. You’ve had a good husband and I’ve had a good wife, according to her lights; then what’s to prevent us joining forces if you think half so well of me as I do of you?” Lydia was inconsequent. “If anybody had told me when I opened my eyes this morning what the day was going to bring forth,” she said, “God’s my judge I shouldn’t have had the heart, or courage to put on my clothes.” “Yes, you would,” he answered. “You’re the sort to meet all that comes steadfast and patient, with the pluck of an army. You’d have rose up as usual. And what about it?” “Nothing on earth is farther from my thoughts at present than a second,” she answered. “I regard myself as an old woman.” “Only because you live among all these messy children. You’re not old: you’re in your prime, and if you was to rest your flesh a bit, instead of wearing it out morning, noon and night, you’d very soon be surprised to find what a comely creature you’d find yourself.” “That’s all past. Duty is duty and God’s found the work to do.”