Dicky Bewes, he fought to wear down Milly and bring her into his arms, and Jack Cobley, he went into calculations and took stock of the cottage in dispute and finally came to conclusions with himself on the subject.  He felt that if only a personable man could come along and win the girl’s affection, ’twould put her in a strong position, for he was jealous on her account by now and wished her well; but nobody round about troubled to court Milly Boon after the people knew that Dick Bewes was making the running, for they felt he’d win her sure enough if he had patience to hold on.

So, as there was none else to hope for as might come forward and save the situation for Jane Pedlar, Jack resolved that he was called upon for the task.

He larned the market value of the cottage and then, three days afore the thunderbolt was timed to fall, he went up over to Nicholas Bewes and had a tell with the man.

For two mortal hours did they sit together smoking their pipes, and turning over the situation, and Bewes was bound to grant, when Jack was gone, that the chap possessed a lot of sound sense, though mouth-speech weren’t his strong point, and it took him a deal of time to make his meaning clear.  But none the less he could do so, when a listener was content not to hurry him, and Nicholas Bewes listened very patient, the more willingly because what Jack had to say interested him a lot.

He was a thought put about first, however, because Cobley didn’t mince words.

“’Tis like this, if I may say so,” he began.  “Your son’s wishful to marry Milly Boon—­a good bit against her will, by all accounts; but you be on his side, naturally, and want to see him happy, so you’ve put a loaded pistol to old Mrs. Pedlar’s head and told her if her niece don’t take your boy, she’s got to quit her home.”

Bewes stared.

“What business might that be of yours, Jack Cobley?” he asked, and the visitor explained.

“On the face of it, none,” he said; “but I wouldn’t have come afore you only to say I disapproved, because you’d say my opinion didn’t matter a damn.  So I’ve come because I’m wishful to be in it and let you know my right so to be.  There’s the cottage and there’s your son, and if you think that Milly Boon be the right one for your Richard, then I’m not saying a little judicious pressure ain’t reasonable.  But, to pleasure my mother, who’s very addicted to old Mrs. Pedlar, I’ve looked into that question and, to say it kindly, I may tell you that Milly Boon is not suited to your Richard.”

“You’ve a right to your opinion,” answered Bewes; “and I’ve an equal right not to care one damn for your opinion as you say.”

“Just so,” admitted Jack.  “Not for a moment do my opinion in itself matter to anybody, Farmer; but if I’m so positive sure that I’m right, then it becomes a duty to voice myself, though no man likes voicing himself less than me.  And, because I’m so sure, after due consideration of the pair of ’em, I be come afore you to make suggestions.”