“She was right, my dear, if she was a ten-thousander.  She wasn’t right as a farmer’s daughter with poor expectations.—­I’d say humble, if humble she were.  As a farmer’s daughter, she should choose the violet side.  That’s clear as day.  One thing’s good, I admit; she tells me she makes her own bonnets, and they’re as good as milliners’, and that’s a proud matter to say of your own niece.  And to buy dresses for herself, I suppose, she’s sat down and she made dresses for fine ladies.  I’ve found her at it.  Save the money for the work, says I. What does she reply—­she always has a reply:  ’Uncle, I know the value of money better.  ’You mean, you spend it,’ I says to her.  ‘I buy more than it’s worth,’ says she.  And I’ll tell you what, Mr. Robert Armstrong, as I find your name to be, sir; if you beat women at talking, my lord! you’re a clever chap.”

Robert laughed.  “I give in at the first mile.”

“Don’t think much of women—­is that it, sir?”

“I’m glad to say I don’t think of them at all.”

“Do you think of one woman, now, Mr. Robert Armstrong?”

“I’d much rather think of two.”

“And why, may I ask?”

“It’s safer.”

“Now, I don’t exactly see that,” said Anthony.

“You set one to tear the other,” Robert explained.

“You’re a Grand Turk Mogul in your reasonings of women, Mr. Robert Armstrong.  I hope as your morals are sound, sir?”

They were on the road to church, but Robert could not restrain a swinging outburst.

He observed that he hoped likewise that his morals were sound.

“Because,” said Anthony, “do you see, sir, two wives—­”

“No, no; one wife,” interposed Robert.  “You said ‘think about;’ I’d ‘think about’ any number of women, if I was idle.  But the woman you mean to make your wife, you go to at once, and don’t ‘think about’ her or the question either.”

“You make sure of her, do you, sir?”

“No:  I try my luck; that is all.”

“Suppose she won’t have ye?”

“Then I wait for her.”

“Suppose she gets married to somebody else?”

“Well, you know, I shouldn’t cast eye on a woman who was a fool.”

“Well, upon my—­” Anthony checked his exclamation, returning to the charge with, “Just suppose, for the sake of supposing—­supposing she was a fool, and gone and got married, and you thrown back’ard on one leg, starin’ at the other, stupified-like?”

“I don’t mind supposing it,” said Robert.  “Say, she’s a fool.  Her being a fool argues that I was one in making a fool’s choice.  So, she jilts me, and I get a pistol, or I get a neat bit of rope, or I take a clean header with a cannon-ball at my heels, or I go to the chemist’s and ask for stuff to poison rats,—­anything a fool’d do under the circumstances, it don’t matter what.”

Old Anthony waited for Rhoda to jump over a stile, and said to her,—­