“Well, well,” said he, coming and sitting down again, and staring into the fire, “it’s a precious bad job. Let’s think a bit how we be to tackle it.” “I know,” said I, drawing up a bit--for I didn’t feel flattered at this speech--“that I’m not in the same position you are in, and that you’ve a right to look for a much richer man than I am for your sister, but--” “Oh, bother that,” said Joe, beginning to smoke again, and still staring into the fire; “I wasn’t thinking of that. ’Twill be just as bad for we, let who will take her. Here’s mother getting a’most blind, and ’mazing forgetful-like about every thing. Who’s to read her her chapter, or to find her spectacles? and what in the world’s to become of the keys? I be no use to mother by myself, you see,” said Joe, “and I couldn’t abide to see the old lady put about at her time of life; let alone how the pickling and preserving is to go on.” I was very pleased and surprised to see him taking it so coolly, and particularly that he seemed not to be objecting to me, but only to losing his sister at all. “Then there’s my dairy,” said he; “that cow Daisy, as gives the richest milk in all the Vale, nobody could ever get her to stand quiet till Lu took to her; she’ll kick down a matter o’ six pail o’ milk a week, I’ll warrant. And the poultry, too; there’s that drattl’d old galleeny’ll be learning the Spanish hens to lay astray up in the brake, as soon as ever Lu goes, and then the fox’ll have ’em all. To think of the trouble I took to get that breed, and not a mossel o’ use at last!” “Well, but Joe,” said I, “one would think we were going to be married to-morrow, to hear you talk.” “Well, you want to be married, don’t you?” said he, looking up. “Yes, but not directly,” said I; “you see, I should like to have a tidy place got all ready before I should think--” “Why, she mayn’t be agreeable after all,” interrupted Joe, as if a new light had suddenly struck him; and then he had a good laugh at the thought, in which I didn’t join. “Then, Joe,” said I, “I think you don’t seem to mind my being a cockney, and not a rich man?” “I’d sooner have had a chap that knows a horse from a handspike, and something about four-course,” said he, “so I won’t tell a lie about it, Dick. Put that out of the way, and I’d as lief call you brother-in-law as any man. But you ain’t in any hurry you said just now?” “Well, no,” said I; “but of course I should like to write to your sister directly and tell her, and I hope you won’t object to that, and won’t hinder me if you can’t help me.” “Don’t have any of that writing,” said Joe, “’pend upon it, a good-bred girl like Lu wouldn’t stand it.” “That’s all very well,” said I, “but I’m going away to-night, you know, and if I don’t write how’s she ever to know any thing about it?” “Look here,” said Joe; “will you promise, Dick, to give me and mother a year to turn round in from next Christmas--that is, supposing Lu don’t say no?”