"Womenfolk," he would remark, "don't wage honourable warfare. They hits below the belt, they do. When my old 'ooman gets miffed wi' me, I notices a tremenjous difference in my victuals." Uncle had pipeclay in his marrow. During his hot youth he had taken the Queen's shilling after a poaching affair, and served some five years with the colours of the county regiment. He had not seen active service, but he allowed strangers to believe that he was a great warrior. Possibly, the discipline of the parade ground had made him swear to take life easily for the rest of his days. Captain Davenant spoke of him as a "character." The word "card" was not known in Nether-Applewhite. Uncle loved two persons nearly as much as himself--his sister, Susan, and his nephew, Alfred. When the news of Alfred's engagement became known to him, he expressed great interest and pleasure, drinking the health of prospective groom and bride in much ale and cider. Alfred brought the blushing Fancy to Uncle's cottage, and received the felicitations which the good looks of the young woman warranted. Uncle had sentimental views about the married state not shared by his wife. As he kissed Fancy, he said solemnly: "'Tis a great venture. We all likes a dip into the lucky bag. And it do seem to me, Alferd, as you've pulled a prize." Mrs. Mucklow sniffed. She, too, kissed Fancy, but uttered a warning note: "Marriage ain't what some folks crack it up to be, my girl. But I've not a word agen courtship. Your uncle, as is to be, follered me about like a dog for three years, and I own up truthful 'twas the happiest time o' my life." Uncle laughed cheerily. "I be your old dog still, Jane, and allers ready for a bone." Mrs. Mucklow nodded, looking whimsically at Fancy. "You hear that, my girl? 'Tis the bone they look for. A man's heart lies in his stomach. Feed up Alferd so long as he behaves himself. I says nothing about the power o' prayer, seein' as generally speaking my most powerful prayers ain't been answered as I could wish, but fasting do wonnerful work, especially wi' men." Uncle laughed again. Marriage, however, seemed reasonably remote. Fancy wished to "make good" in her new place. Alfred, very comfortable at home, intended to work hard for a year at least, laying the solid foundations of a business likely to be bigger than he had ever dreamed it to be. Mrs. Yellam, moreover, had spoken plainly and sensibly to her son. "She be a sweet maid, Alferd, but tarribly spindlin', a slip o' muslin, and young for her years." "Twenty-two, Mother." "I knows that. And I minds that her mother died, pore soul, when Fancy was born. A bottle-baby; and I never did hold wi' that. Don't 'ee look so glum. She be plumper a'ready. Pa'son give his maids good plain food, and our air blowing over downs be better nor strong ale for such as she." "You do love her, Mother?"