Mr. Ball listened and nodded, and his blue eyes rested upon Mrs. Bascombe’s grey ones.

“You throw a great light,” he said.  “In a word, there was deeper reasons far than any growing affection for me that have made her so on-coming of late?”

“God forbid as I should suggest such a thing as that,” answered Nelly.  “You’re a sort of man to please any woman, if I may say so; but I’m only telling you what lies in her mind.  And I’ll say more in fairness to the both of you.  Her father don’t believe there is a man after her at all.  Jane’s just sitting on the fence, in fact, and waiting to see if she can’t shake him off me.  And if I’m turned down, then you’ll be turned down.  ’Tis rather amusing in a way.”

“It may be, but I ain’t much one for a joke,” he confessed, and then went on.  “Though too busy for love-making and all that, yet I’ve got my pride, Mrs. Bascombe, and I shouldn’t like to be taken as a last resort—­amusing though it might be.”

“No man would,” she answered.  “And I hope I’m wrong.  She may be turning to you for your qualities.  She may be coming for affection after all, knowing you’d prove a very fine husband.”

“I would,” declared Mr. Ball.  “I can tell you, without self-conceit or any such thing, that where I loved I’d stick, and the woman as shared my life would share my all.  There’s a lot in me only hid because nothing have yet happened to draw it out.  I’m busy and I’m wishful to do my little bit of work in the world for other people; but if I was married, my home would be a find thought to me, and my wife would be first always and her comfort and happiness a lot more to me than my own.  ‘My home’ I call it, but it have long been borne in upon me that a home is a hollow word with nought in it but an aunt such as Mary Ball.  It may be like blowing my own trumpet, and I wouldn’t say it save in an understanding ear; but I do think Jane Warner would find I was good enough.”

“She certainly would,” admitted Nelly; and deep in her heart, such was her powers of perspection, she couldn’t help contrasting Martin’s simple nature and open praise of himself with John Warner’s cleverer speechifying and far more downy and secret mind.

After that Ball and the widow met a good few times unknown to the farmer and his daughter, and there’s no doubt that the more Martin saw of Mrs. Bascombe, the more impressed he felt with her good sense.  They couldn’t advance each other’s interests, however, for all Nelly was able to tell him amounted to nothing.  John revealed to her that Jane hadn’t taken no steps to relieve the situation, but that she still asserted that she’d got a man up her sleeve; while all Martin could say was that Jane held off and marked time and wouldn’t decide for or against.

“At the end of a month,” explained Nelly.  “John Warner is to get on to Jane again.  He’s death on her stopping at Wych Elm; but she’s given no sign that she will stop if I come.  I may also tell you that she’s been to see me on the subject and given it as her opinion I’ll be doing a very rash act to go to Wych Elm.  She says I’ll live to find out a lot about her wonderful father as might surprise me painfully.”