The victory was complete and time proved Mr. Screech a just and even magnanimous conqueror. But for the moment the friction set up by his methods of approaching matrimony caused not a few persons a little uneasiness. While David had writhed before Billy’s satirical humours, Rhoda Bowden also suffered; but she took herself off and thus escaped direct contact with the cause of it. It happened that Dorcas was restless after her father had set forth to see Mr. Screech. She had wandered towards Coombeshead and finally--moved as many others were moved--determined to seek Madge, and so win comfort, and wait with her at ’Meavy Cot’ until David returned. Of the issue Dorcas felt no manner of doubt. Mr. Screech longed to marry her, and his single-hearted devotion was the finest element in a rather mean character. Marriage Dorcas felt to be a certainty; but she was none the less eager to learn how the great interview had fallen out and to what extent Billy had punished his future brother-in-law. Mr. Screech especially despised the Puritanical views of David; and Dorcas suspected that he might have taken pleasure on this occasion in wounding rather deeply her brother’s susceptibilities. She went to see Margaret, therefore, and felt sorry to find Rhoda also at home. Her sister was in the garden; but Rhoda saw the visitor some way off and departed leisurely without any interchange of words. The red girl flushed and set her teeth in a sneer; the other passed quickly into the Moor. Then Dorcas entered and found Madge making a pudding. She sat down, took off her sunbonnet, and nibbled a piece of raw rhubarb. "Did you see Rhoda go off?" she asked. "Never mind, ’twill come right. You know how she feels things." "Feel! Don’t you think she feels, Madge. She’s hard as them stone statues of women in church--a dead-alive, frozen beast! Feel! I wish somebody would make her feel. Don’t you look like that. You’ve lived with her now half a year and more. You know what she is." "Be fair, Dorcas. She takes this a bit to heart; but that’s only what all of us do." "You don’t, and you needn’t pretend it--not like her, anyway. You’d have done the same if your father had said you wasn’t to have David. You’d have trusted David, same as I trusted Billy. Things like her--Rhoda, I mean--why, good Lord! they’re not women; they ban’t built to bring dear li’l, cuddling, cooing babbies into the world, like you and me. All for yowling dogs and walking in the moonlight--_by herself_! Pretty frosty sport that for a female creature with blood in her veins!"