"He lived by ’em. He said to me once that there were one or two sane men in the world who bought everything he liked to paint. ’Twas a very curious speech to my ear. And to be honest with you, I didn’t like his pickshers--messy and half done to my eye--very different to the pickshers you see on grocers’ almanacs, where everything, to the hairs on a horse’s tail, be worked out to a miracle." "Have ’e seen they pickshers that David got to Tavistock?" she asked. Mr. Snell had seen them; but with a great and sudden access of cunning he replied in the negative. He expected her to invite him home to do so; but she did not. A silence fell until they came to a clapper bridge of rather narrow dimensions. "Shall I hand you over, miss, or would you rather go alone?" he inquired. But Rhoda had crossed before he finished the question. The church-tower seemed to draw his eyes like a magnet, and after further silence Mr. Snell began to talk about it again. "’Tis a very wonderful and curious thing that the old prisoners made thicky pile," he said. "You might not know it, but so it was in ancient days." "Very sad for them, because they was foreigners," ventured Rhoda. "Exactly so. ’Twould be a very sad thing to have a wife and family and be shut away from them." "Yes." "Very sad without a doubt." "Yes." Mr. Snell next ventured on a great generality. "I don’t think ’tis a very good plan for fighting men to marry," he said. "Perhaps not." "Because, if they get the worst of it, and get shot dead or taken prisoners, or any such like misfortune, their children and females have to suffer." Rhoda did not answer. "’Tis a deep question, if you come to think of it, miss, who ought to be married and who ought not to be married." "There’s a lot married as had better not be," she declared. "I quite agree, I quite agree," answered Simon; "and you might even go so far as to say there’s a lot might be married who ain’t." "There’s a lot don’t want to be, I believe." "Women, I grant you. I do think here and there you’ll find a woman who won’t change the single state, along of experience with married sisters, or babies, or cross-grained men, or what not; but us was telling to ’The Corner House’ a bit back along, and it seemed the general idea that there comes a time in every manly mind when the chap cries out for a wife. Should you think that might be so?" "How should I know?" "Beg pardon, I’m sure. Perhaps ’twas a silly question to put to a young woman. No offence, I hope?" "Yes, it was a silly question." "Sorry, I’m sure, and I hope you’ll overlook it. But, when I ax myself if ever it was so with me--but perhaps it don’t interest you?" She considered before answering, then replied: "I don’t much care what men think, but if you want to tell me, tell me." "Not at all--far from it, I’m sure. For that matter I couldn’t tell you very easy. I haven’t been throwed much with the female kind." "So much the better for you very like."