We went on talking for some time. Indeed we talked so long that the dinner-hour was approaching, when one of the maids came with the message that Mr. Stokes had called again, wishing to see me. I could not help smiling inwardly at the news. I went down at once, and found him smiling too. "My wife do send me for you this time, sir," he said. "Between you and me, I cannot help thinking she have something on her mind she wants to tell you, sir." "Why shouldn't she tell you, Mr. Stokes? That would be most natural. And then, if you wanted any help about it, why, of course, here I am." "She don't think well enough of my judgment for that, sir; and I daresay she be quite right. She always do make me give in before she have done talking. But she have been a right good wife to me, sir." "Perhaps she would have been a better if you hadn't given in quite so much. It is very wrong to give in when you think you are right." "But I never be sure of it when she talk to me awhile." "Ah, then I have nothing to say except that you ought to have been surer--_sometimes;_ I don't say _always."_ "But she do want you very bad now, sir. I don't think she'll behave to you as she did before. Do come, sir." "Of course I will--instantly." I returned to the study, and asked Percivale if he would like to go with me. He looked, I thought, as if he would rather not. I saw that it was hardly kind to ask him. "Well, perhaps it is better not," I said; "for I do not know how long I may have to be with the poor woman. You had better wait here and take my place at the dinner-table. I promise not to depose you if I should return before the meal is over." He thanked me very heartily. I showed him into the drawing-room, told my wife where I was going, and not to wait dinner for me--I would take my chance--and joined Mr. Stokes. "You have no idea, then," I said, after we had gone about half-way, "what makes your wife so uneasy?" "No, I haven't," he answered; "except it be," he resumed, "that she was too hard, as I thought, upon our Mary, when she wanted to marry beneath her, as wife thought." "How beneath her? Who was it she wanted to marry?" "She did marry him, sir. She has a bit of her mother's temper, you see, and she would take her own way." "Ah, there's a lesson to mothers, is it not? If they want to have their own way, they mustn't give their own temper to their daughters." "But how are they to help it, sir?" "Ah, how indeed? But what is your daughter's husband?" "A labourer, sir. He works on a farm out by Carpstone." "But you have worked on Mr. Barton's farm for many years, if I don't mistake?" "I have, sir; but I am a sort of a foreman now, you see." "But you weren't so always; and your son-in-law, whether he work his way up or not, is, I presume, much where you were when you married Mrs. Stokes?"