‘I’ll tell thee what, lad,’ said Mrs. Lord to her husband on the night of the chapel yard conclave—­’I’ll tell thee what.  I feel fair grieved for that lass th’ parson’s wed.  They’n mad’ up their minds they’ll never tak’ to her; and there’s no changin’ th’ mind o’ Rehoboth.’

‘But we’ll tak’ to her, mother,’ cried Milly, crossing, with her crutch, from the window at which she had been sitting, to take her place at her mother’s side.  ‘We’ll tak’ to her; aw con luv onybody ‘at Mr. Penrose luves.’

‘Bless thee, lass! aw beleeve thaa con.  An’ we will tak’ to her, as thaa sez.  Fancy thee leavin’ me to get wed, an’ livin’ i’ a strange place, and all th’ fo’k set agen thee afore they see thee!  It mak’s mi heart fair wark (ache).’

‘But thaa knows, misses, hoo’ll happen not tak’ to thee an’ Milly.  Hoo’ll happen be a bit aboon yo’—­high-minded like.’

‘Hoo’ll tak’ to Milly if hoo’s takken to Mr. Penrose, lad; thaa’ll see if hoo doesn’t.  Didn’t he read a bit aat o’ one o’ her letters where hoo said hoo were fain longin’ to see Milly becose hoo liked th’ flaars an’ stars an’ sich like?’

‘Yi; he did forsure.’

‘Aw know hoo’ll tak’ to me, mother.  An’ if hoo doesn’t, I’ll mak’ her, that’s all.’

’Aw don’t somehaa think ’at Mr. Penrose ud wed a praad woman, Abram.  Do yo’?’

‘I durnd think he would, lass.  Bud then th’ best o’ men mak’ mistakes o’er th’ women they wed.’

’Yi; they say luv’s gawmless; but aw welly think Mr. Penrose knows what he’s abaat.’

‘Th’ Lord help him, if he doesn’t!  They say a mon hes to ax his wife if he’s to live.’

’Aw yerd Amos say t’other day, faither, that a chap hed to live thirty year wi’ a woman afore he know’d he were wed.’

‘Did th’ owd powse say that, lass?’ cried Milly’s mother.  ’I nobbud wish I’d yerd him.  He’s lived more nor thirty year baat one, an’ a bonny speciment he is.  Bud it’s a gradely job for th’ woman ‘at missed him.  He were welly weddin’ Malachi o’ th’ Mount’s wife once over.’

‘Yi; hoo’d a lucky miss, an’ no mistak’.  But happen hoo’d ha’ snapped him.’

‘Never, lad.  There’s some felleys that no woman can shap’, and Amos is one o’ em.’

‘Aw towd him, faither, that yo’ know’d yo’ were wed, and yo’d nobbud been agate seventeen year.’

‘An’ what did he say to that, Milly?’ asked her mother.

‘Why, he towd me aw know’d too mich.’

And at this both Abraham and his wife joined in hearty laughter.

‘When does Penrose bring his wife to Rehoboth, missis?’

‘Saturday neet.  We’s see her for th’ fust time o’ Sunday mornin’.  Hoo’s baan to sit wi’ Dr. Hale.’

‘There’ll be some een on her, aw bet,’ said Abraham.

’Wernd there, just.  Poor lass!  I could fair cry for her when aw think abaat it.  An’ away fro’ her mother, an’ o’.’

‘But then hoo’ll hev her husband, wernd hoo?’ asked Milly.