“Wi’ all the plaisure in laife, my zon,” he answered very graciously, thinking perhaps that I was prepared to speak concerning Sally.

“Now, Farmer Nicholas Snowe,” I said, scarce knowing how to begin it, “you must promise not to be vexed with me, for what I am going to say to you.”

“Vaxed wi’ thee!  Noo, noo, my lad.  I ’ave a knowed thee too long for that.  And thy veyther were my best friend, afore thee.  Never wronged his neighbours, never spak an unkind word, never had no maneness in him.  Tuk a vancy to a nice young ’ooman, and never kep her in doubt about it, though there wadn’t mooch to zettle on her.  Spak his maind laike a man, he did, and right happy he were wi’ her.  Ah, well a day!  Ah, God knoweth best.  I never shall zee his laike again.  And he were the best judge of a dung-heap anywhere in this county.”

“Well, Master Snowe,” I answered him, “it is very handsome of you to say so.  And now I am going to be like my father, I am going to speak my mind.”

“Raight there, lad; raight enough, I reckon.  Us has had enough of pralimbinary.”

“Then what I want to say is this—­I won’t have any one courting my mother.”

“Coortin’ of thy mother, lad?” cried Farmer Snowe, with as much amazement as if the thing were impossible; “why, who ever hath been dooin’ of it?”

“Yes, courting of my mother, sir.  And you know best who comes doing it.”

“Wull, wull!  What will boys be up to next?  Zhud a’ thought herzelf wor the proper judge.  No thank ’ee, lad, no need of thy light.  Know the wai to my own door, at laste; and have a raight to goo there.”  And he shut me out without so much as offering me a drink of cider.

The next afternoon, when work was over, I had seen to the horses, for now it was foolish to trust John Fry, because he had so many children, and his wife had taken to scolding; and just as I was saying to myself that in five days more my month would be done, and myself free to seek Lorna, a man came riding up from the ford where the road goes through the Lynn stream.  As soon as I saw that it was not Tom Faggus, I went no farther to meet him, counting that it must be some traveller bound for Brendon or Cheriton, and likely enough he would come and beg for a draught of milk or cider; and then on again, after asking the way.

But instead of that, he stopped at our gate, and stood up from his saddle, and halloed as if he were somebody; and all the time he was flourishing a white thing in the air, like the bands our parson weareth.  So I crossed the court-yard to speak with him.

“Service of the King!” he saith; “service of our lord the King!  Come hither, thou great yokel, at risk of fine and imprisonment.”

Although not pleased with this, I went to him, as became a loyal man; quite at my leisure, however, for there is no man born who can hurry me, though I hasten for any woman.

“Plover Barrows farm!” said he; “God only knows how tired I be.  Is there any where in this cursed county a cursed place called Plover Barrows farm?  For last twenty mile at least they told me ’twere only half a mile farther, or only just round corner.  Now tell me that, and I fain would thwack thee if thou wert not thrice my size.”