"You did, sir? Then thank you kindly," said the farmer, changing the stout walking-stick he carried from one hand to the other, so as to leave the right free to extend for a hearty shake. He altered his menacing tone too, and seemed to interpose his great body as a sort of screen between his sister and the doctor as he continued in a low voice, only intended for the other's ear: "Don't you say nowt to her; I've said about enough.--And it's all right now," he said, raising his voice, as if for his sister to hear. "Me and Fanny understands one another, and she's coming home wi' me; and if any one's got to say anything again her for this night's work, he's got to talk to William Cressy, farmer, Rayford, Berks." There was a low sob here; and the doctor saw that the drooping girl was clinging tightly to her brother's arm. "I am sure," said the doctor quietly, "no one would be so brutal as to say anything against a trusting woman, who placed faith in a scoundrel." "Doctor Scales!" cried Fanny, raising her head as she was about to say a few words in defence of the man she loved. "You hold your tongue, Fan," said the farmer firmly. "The doctor's right. He is a scoundrel, a regular bla'guard, as you'd soon have found out, if old John Monnick hadn't put me up to his games." "Bill, dear Bill!" sobbed the girl. "Well, ain't he? If he'd been a man, and had cared for you, wouldn't he have come fair and open to me, as you hadn't no father nor mother? And if he'd meant right, would he have sneaked off like a whipped dog, as he did to-night!" "Your brother is right, Fanny," said the doctor quietly.--"Now, let's get back, and I can ease the minds of all at the Rosery. It was at Sir James's wish that I came; and I have been setting the police at work to find your whereabouts." "Sir James always was a gentleman," said the farmer, giving his head a satisfied nod; "and it puzzles me how he could have had a cousin who was such a bla--Well, it's no use for you to nip my arm, Fan; he is a bla'guard, and I'm beginning to repent now as I didn't half-kill him, and--" "There goes the last bell," cried the doctor, hurriedly interposing; and taking the same compartment as the brother and sister, he earned poor weak Fanny's gratitude on the way down by carefully taking her brother's thoughts away from Arthur Prayle and her escapade, and keeping him in conversation upon questions relating to the diseases of horses, cows, and sheep. Volume 2, Chapter XIV. MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. "And would you say _Yes_, aunt dear, if he should ask me?" "Before I answer that question, Naomi, my dear, let me ask you one. Is this little heart still sore about Arthur Prayle?" "Indeed, no, aunt," cried the girl indignantly; "pray, don't mention his name. I am angry with myself for ever thinking of him as I did." "Under those circumstances, my dear, it may be as well to ask you whether you would like to be married."