“On what errand, my girl?” said he. “With a humble message from grandfather, your honour,” she answered--“that there’s a battle-royal in his cockpit Saturday forenoon, and will your honour condescend to take a seat?” “I don’t know. What would _you_ have me do, Betty?” “Sure, your honour’s the best judge. Cocks will be cocks, I suppose; but ’tis a cruel business to set natural enemies to the scratch, think I; and I’d rather have them in broth, with their necks wrung, when all’s said and done.” “Then, I won’t come.” “Oh! but save us! that’s only a woman’s view.” “It flies with all the force of beauty behind it, my dear.” The girl shrunk back a little. “Then I was to ask you,” she said, in a more strained voice, “if you would favor us with your custom in the matter of poultry and butter and garden stuff?” The gentleman laughed. “Why, I’ve turned away one with the same offer already,” cried he. Then, seeing her fall back timid, as if at a rebuff: “Could you undertake to supply ’em very fresh?” he said, with mock gravity. “Oh! rest your honour!” she said eagerly. “We could drive over every day, if needs were.” “Say, twice a week, Betty. And, if you lack garden stuff, why come none the less, and I’ll take a fruitful pleasure of your visits.” He caught his stirrup and mounted, and was gone with a smiling nod to the girl. At the entrance to the drive, the old man saluted him respectfully. He pulled up, and was about to exchange a word with the gaffer, when he remembered his deafness, and made as if to proceed on his way. But Grandfather Pollack leaned out of his cart and beckoned him. “That’s a full-blooded girl,” he said, in a hoarse whisper. “A sweet, neat filly, I calls her.” Mr. Tuke, feeling the uselessness of speech, nodded after a reserved manner. “That girl,” said the old man, with a small experimental leer of confidence, “would serve a gentleman well for her beauty and her lovingness.” He tapped the sleeve of the other’s riding-coat. “I’m poor, sir, I’m poor and failin’. What a chance if I had a piece o’ goods that costly as to be worth a little annuity to me!” He received a grunt and scowl of indignation for answer; but it was doubtful if he read their significance. Mr. Tuke shook off the old clawing touch and rode on. He did not, however, put a short period to the evil by forbidding the ancient rascal then and there his presence. Which of us has the courage to strike at the snake of temptation on the first protrusion of his head from the ground? We want to circumvent him, with that truly human habit of temporizing that so often ends by our getting entangled in the toils. Now he was righteously incensed; yet as he rode away under the yellowing trees, his thoughts ran warm on the ardent beauty of melancholy that characterized the face of all things about him; and gradually his mood fell from indignation to a tenderness that was almost a passion.