"Well, anyway, it just goes to prove 'at men need women to look after 'em, but for all that it's bad enough for a woman to be alone. To be sure, she's a poor sort 'at hasn't more about 'er nor a man, an' it isn't 'at she's flayed o' bein' by hersen or can't manage for hersen, or owt o' that. No, no. But there's summat short, for all that. Ye can take it from me, miss, 'at Eve 'ud sooner have been driven out o' Eden wi' her 'usband, nor have been left there to fend for hersen. Women doesn't want to be t' boss: they want to be bossed, or anyway they like t' man to think 'at he's bossin' 'em. An' they like 'im to come in wi' his great dirty boots spreadin' t' muck all ovver t' floor, an' puttin' 'em on t' scoured 'earthstone, so as they can 'call' 'im an' clear up after 'im. "Oh, aye, to be sure, an' they like to see 'im light his pipe an' then fratch wi' 'im for fillin' t' 'ouse wi' smoke; an' even if he knocks ye about a bit now an' then, he sidles up to ye at after, an' 'appen puts 'is arms round ye, an'--an' makes a fool of hissen; but ye feel t' want on it when ye've been used to 't." "But we cannot all have husbands," I objected; "there are not enough of the other sex to go round." "To be sure, that's so," she consented; "but that doesn't alter t' fact 'at we want 'em, does it? But I'd tax all t' men 'at isn't married, the selfish beggars. The Almighty meant 'em to pair off. Two an' two they went into t' ark, an' two an' two they should go yet if I'd my way. It's nature. An' I never could see yet why t' wimmen should 'ave to sit quiet an' wait for t' men to come an' ask for 'em. A woman knows better by 'alf what man 'ud suit 'er, an' 'er 'im, than t' man knows. She knows without knowing how she knows; whereas t' man just sees a pretty face, an' some dainty little feet i' 'igh-heeled boots, an' some frizzy 'air, 'at she's bought as like as not at a barber's, an' there ye are! But where are ye in toathree years' time? Aye, to be sure, where are ye then?" "Perhaps if conventionality had permitted, your state might have been changed again by now," I suggested slyly. "Well, now, to be sure, Miss Holden," she replied, drawing her chair a little nearer to mine, and laying one hand upon my lap for emphasis, "I thought after Robertsha' died 'at it were a case of 'once bitten, twice shy,' for there were odd times when he filled up the cup, so to speak. But, ye know, I missed 'im; an' though it's twelve year sin' come Shrove-tide, I miss 'im yet; an' if I had the askin' I've known for a long time who it 'ud be 'at 'ud take his place; but ye see I 'aven't, so I bide as I am." I thought of the old fox, Simon Barjona, and laughed inwardly as well as outwardly. Widow Robertshaw little realised that I knew her secret.