"Margaret Stanbury knows about it," she said. "I met Mr. Snell, and he was full of it, and we had a tell. Then he told me that Timothy Mattacott was out Down Tor way, and met Madge, and went and told her. So you’ll have to calm her down somehow." "Better you do," he answered. "’Tis a woman’s job. Get over this afternoon, like a good girl, and just make light of it. Tell her I’m coming across o’ Sunday but can’t sooner." Rhoda obeyed and later in the day saw Madge. David’s sweetheart was tearful and much perturbed. "’Tis all my fault," she said. "Oh, Rhoda, can’t nothing be done to stop it? Such terrible strong men--they’ll kill each other." "No, they won’t; and ’tisn’t all your fault," answered the elder. "It had to come off afore they could be friends again. ’Tis to be a fair, stand-up fight; and the best man will win; and that’s our David. Don’t take on and make a fuss afore him, if you want to keep friends with him. David’s like faither, all for valour. He’ll be vexed if you cry about it. Time enough for us to cry if he’s worsted. But he won’t be." "’Tis hard for me, because I know ’em both so well," said Margaret. "And ’tis easy for me, because I know ’em both so well," answered Rhoda. "No man ever wanted his beastly nature cooled down with a good hiding more than what Bartley Crocker does. And, be it as ’twill, ’twas Crocker that made the fight, not David." "I shall go mad when the day comes," said Margaret. "No, you won’t, because you won’t know the day. ’Tis to be kept a dark secret. And I’m going in the Ring to look after my brother." "Rhoda!" "I am, though. He wants it. He will have it so." "Be you made of iron?" "Yes, where David’s good is the matter. He wants me there--and there I shall be." "The men will hoot you--’tis an unwomanly thing." "D’you think I care for that, so long as I know it isn’t?" "If any woman’s to be there, ’tis his future wife, I should think," said Madge; but Rhoda laughed. "You! You’d faint when--but there, don’t think no more about it. Men will be men, when they’re built on the pattern of David. I come from him to tell you not to fret, so mind you don’t." "’Fret!’ I shall fret my hair grey, and so will mother," said the promised wife. "To think of his beautiful face all smashed about--and Bartley too--both such good-looking, kindly chaps! What ever do they want to fight about? Can’t they settle their quarrels no other way?" "You should know ’em better. ’Tis a deeper thing than a quarrel. If they are to be friends, they must hammer one another a bit first. Why not? You puzzle me. Do ’e want ’em to have their minds full of poison to each other for evermore? Better fight and let it out." "I shall pray David, if ever he loved me, not to do it."