"You’re as bad as your mother, Madge, and worse than Bart. You’ll believe in the pixies next, I doubt. But there’s one thing I do say where Mrs. Stanbury’s right, though I can’t be supposed to know much about such matters--a bachelor man like me. Your mother told mine how ’twas arranged that Rhoda joins you and David at ’Meavy Cot’ after you’m married; and Mrs. Stanbury said that somehow, though far be it from her to set her opinion over other people, she couldn’t think ’twas a wise plan; and my mother who never beats about no bush, and always sets up her opinion over everybody, said for her part ’twas flat foolishness, not to say madness, and would end in a rumpus. What d’you think of that?" "’Tis taken out of my hands, Bartley. I wasn’t asked--no more was mother. Some might think that it wouldn’t suit Rhoda--living along with a young married couple; but I know, and you know, what Rhoda is to David. ’Tisn’t a common friendship of brother and sister, but a lot more than that. She’d be lost at the Warren House without him." "But surely the man doesn’t want her now that he’s going to take a wife?" "Yes, he does--to look after his dogs." "Can’t you look after his dogs?" "No," said Margaret, firmly, "I can’t. I don’t treat dogs right. I spoil ’em." "Well, if the three of you are of one mind, I can’t see that it’s any other body’s business. Here’s the top of the hill, and I can’t go no farther, though I’d like to." He put down her basket, and she thanked him for carrying it. "And what you say is true, I’m sure! if we three--Rhoda and David and me--be well pleased at the thought of biding together, why shouldn’t we do so?" "Of course. You can but try it. Perhaps she’ll marry afore long, and you’ll have the dogs on your hands yet afore you expect it." "I’m sure I hope--at least--good-bye, for the present," said Margaret, and hurried off. "Ah! she told the truth then!" thought the man; "told the naked truth and caught herself up too late! ’I’m sure I hope she will go,’ was what her heart prompted her to say. Maybe ’twill be my luck to cut the knot. Anyhow, as a full-blown upholsterer equal to making two pound a week at any time, I’ve a right to cast my eye where I please. Funny ’twould be if I should ever kiss Rhoda Bowden again. But ’twill be ’by your leave’ next time, I reckon, if ever that happens." *CHAPTER III* *PREPARATIONS*