“Aye, an’ she’s a pleasant-looked un too,” said Wiry Ben.  “I’ll stick up for the pretty women preachin’; I know they’d persuade me over a deal sooner nor th’ ugly men.  I shouldna wonder if I turn Methody afore the night’s out, an’ begin to coort the preacher, like Seth Bede.”

“Why, Seth’s looking rether too high, I should think,” said Mr. Casson.  “This woman’s kin wouldn’t like her to demean herself to a common carpenter.”

“Tchu!” said Ben, with a long treble intonation, “what’s folks’s kin got to do wi’t?  Not a chip.  Poyser’s wife may turn her nose up an’ forget bygones, but this Dinah Morris, they tell me, ’s as poor as iver she was—­works at a mill, an’s much ado to keep hersen.  A strappin’ young carpenter as is a ready-made Methody, like Seth, wouldna be a bad match for her.  Why, Poysers make as big a fuss wi’ Adam Bede as if he war a nevvy o’ their own.”

“Idle talk! idle talk!” said Mr. Joshua Rann.  “Adam an’ Seth’s two men; you wunna fit them two wi’ the same last.”

“Maybe,” said Wiry Ben, contemptuously, “but Seth’s the lad for me, though he war a Methody twice o’er.  I’m fair beat wi’ Seth, for I’ve been teasin’ him iver sin’ we’ve been workin’ together, an’ he bears me no more malice nor a lamb.  An’ he’s a stout-hearted feller too, for when we saw the old tree all afire a-comin’ across the fields one night, an’ we thought as it war a boguy, Seth made no more ado, but he up to’t as bold as a constable.  Why, there he comes out o’ Will Maskery’s; an’ there’s Will hisself, lookin’ as meek as if he couldna knock a nail o’ the head for fear o’ hurtin’t.  An’ there’s the pretty preacher woman!  My eye, she’s got her bonnet off.  I mun go a bit nearer.”

Several of the men followed Ben’s lead, and the traveller pushed his horse on to the Green, as Dinah walked rather quickly and in advance of her companions towards the cart under the maple-tree.  While she was near Seth’s tall figure, she looked short, but when she had mounted the cart, and was away from all comparison, she seemed above the middle height of woman, though in reality she did not exceed it—­an effect which was due to the slimness of her figure and the simple line of her black stuff dress.  The stranger was struck with surprise as he saw her approach and mount the cart—­surprise, not so much at the feminine delicacy of her appearance, as at the total absence of self-consciousness in her demeanour.  He had made up his mind to see her advance with a measured step and a demure solemnity of countenance; he had felt sure that her face would be mantled with the smile of conscious saintship, or else charged with denunciatory bitterness.  He knew but two types of Methodist—­the ecstatic and the bilious.  But Dinah walked as simply as if she were going to market, and seemed as unconscious of her outward appearance as a little boy:  there was no blush, no tremulousness, which said, “I know you think me a pretty woman, too young to preach”;