“Yes, certainly,” said I; “Christmas year is the earliest time I could hope to be ready by.” “Then I’ll tell you what,” said he; “Don’t you go writing to her at all, and I’ll bring her up with me for Christmas cattle-show, and you can get us lodgings, and show us some of the sights. You can have it all out with her before we come home, and I shall be by to see all fair.” “No, no, Joe, I couldn’t say a word with you by.” “I didn’t mean that I was to be in the room, you know, only if any thing goes wrong--you understand,” said Joe, looking round, and nodding at me with a solemn face. “Yes, I see,” said I; “but somebody else--one of the young farmers now, that I saw on the hill, may be stepping in before Christmas.” “Not they. It’s busy times with us these next two months. Besides, I’ll look after that. Is it a bargain, then?” “Yes,” said I, “only mind, Joe, that you look sharp meantime.” “All right,” said he; and then fell to looking into the fire again; and I sat thinking too, and wondering at my luck, which I could hardly believe in yet. “And now about the pot,” said Joe; “suppose Lu says yes, what have you got to keep the pot boiling?” Then I told him what my salary was, and what I had saved, and where I had put it out, and he nodded away, and seemed very well satisfied. “Well, Lu has got £500,” said he, “under father’s will. Parson and I are the executors. You must go and see the Parson when you get back to London; he’s an out-and-outer, and worth more than all the chaps at that jawing shop of yours put together. The money is out at interest, all but £200, which we’ve never raised yet, but for that matter I can pay it up whenever it’s wanted.” “Of course,” said I, “I should wish all her fortune to be settled on her.” “Yes, I forgot,” said he; “I suppose there ought to be some sort of tying-up done for the children. So I’ll go and see Lawyer Smith about it next market-day.” “Perhaps you had better wait till after Christmas,” said I. “Aye, aye,” said he, “I forgot. We may be running a tail scent after all. But, I say, Dick, if you get married, Lu can never live in those dirty, dark streets, and you away all day; she’d mope to death without a place for poultry, and a little bit of turf to cool her feet on.” “Well,” said I, “you see I’ve got a bit of ground under a freehold land society, down the Great Northern line. It’s a very pretty place, and only five minutes’ walk from a station. I could build a house there in the spring, you know, and have the garden made.” “That’ll do,” said he; “and if you want £100 or so, to finish it off as should be, why you know where to come for it.” “Thank you,” said I, “but I think I can manage it.” “I shall send her up those Spanish hens,” said he, looking up again presently from his pipe; “they won’t be no use here.” “I wish, Joe,” said I, “you wouldn’t talk as if it was all quite certain; it makes me feel uncomfortable. Your sister mayn’t like me, after all.”