“True, true, upon my body,” said Geoffrey.

“Ye spak with feeling, Geoffrey, seemingly.”

“Anybody that d’know my experience might guess that.”

“What’s she doing now, Geoffrey?”

“Claning out all the upstairs drawers and cupboards, and dusting the second-best chainey—­a thing that’s only done once a year.  ’If there’s work to be done I must do it,’ says she, ‘wedding or no.’”

“’Tis my belief she’s a very good woman at bottom.”

“She’s terrible deep, then.”

Mrs. Penny turned round.  “Well, ’tis humps and hollers with the best of us; but still and for all that, Dick and Fancy stand as fair a chance of having a bit of sunsheen as any married pair in the land.”

“Ay, there’s no gainsaying it.”

Mrs. Dewy came up, talking to one person and looking at another.  “Happy, yes,” she said. “’Tis always so when a couple is so exactly in tune with one another as Dick and she.”

“When they be’n’t too poor to have time to sing,” said grandfather James.

“I tell ye, neighbours, when the pinch comes,” said the tranter:  “when the oldest daughter’s boots be only a size less than her mother’s, and the rest o’ the flock close behind her.  A sharp time for a man that, my sonnies; a very sharp time!  Chanticleer’s comb is a-cut then, ’a believe.”

“That’s about the form o’t,” said Mr. Penny.  “That’ll put the stuns upon a man, when you must measure mother and daughter’s lasts to tell ’em apart.”

“You’ve no cause to complain, Reuben, of such a close-coming flock,” said Mrs. Dewy; “for ours was a straggling lot enough, God knows!”

“I d’know it, I d’know it,” said the tranter.  “You be a well-enough woman, Ann.”

Mrs. Dewy put her mouth in the form of a smile, and put it back again without smiling.

“And if they come together, they go together,” said Mrs. Penny, whose family had been the reverse of the tranter’s; “and a little money will make either fate tolerable.  And money can be made by our young couple, I know.”

“Yes, that it can!” said the impulsive voice of Leaf, who had hitherto humbly admired the proceedings from a corner.  “It can be done—­all that’s wanted is a few pounds to begin with.  That’s all!  I know a story about it!”

“Let’s hear thy story, Leaf,” said the tranter.  “I never knew you were clever enough to tell a story.  Silence, all of ye!  Mr. Leaf will tell a story.”

“Tell your story, Thomas Leaf,” said grandfather William in the tone of a schoolmaster.

“Once,” said the delighted Leaf, in an uncertain voice, “there was a man who lived in a house!  Well, this man went thinking and thinking night and day.  At last, he said to himself, as I might, ’If I had only ten pound, I’d make a fortune.’  At last by hook or by crook, behold he got the ten pounds!”

“Only think of that!” said Nat Callcome satirically.