“Ah,” said Mrs. Poyser, rising and walking towards the door, “I know it ’ud be just the same if I was to talk to you for hours.  You’d make me the same answer, at th’ end.  I might as well talk to the running brook and tell it to stan’ still.”

The causeway outside the kitchen door was dry enough now for Mrs. Poyser to stand there quite pleasantly and see what was going on in the yard, the grey worsted stocking making a steady progress in her hands all the while.  But she had not been standing there more than five minutes before she came in again, and said to Dinah, in rather a flurried, awe-stricken tone, “If there isn’t Captain Donnithorne and Mr. Irwine a-coming into the yard!  I’ll lay my life they’re come to speak about your preaching on the Green, Dinah; it’s you must answer ’em, for I’m dumb.  I’ve said enough a’ready about your bringing such disgrace upo’ your uncle’s family.  I wouldn’t ha’ minded if you’d been Mr. Poyser’s own niece—­folks must put up wi’ their own kin, as they put up wi’ their own noses—­it’s their own flesh and blood.  But to think of a niece o’ mine being cause o’ my husband’s being turned out of his farm, and me brought him no fortin but my savin’s——­”

“Nay, dear Aunt Rachel,” said Dinah gently, “you’ve no cause for such fears.  I’ve strong assurance that no evil will happen to you and my uncle and the children from anything I’ve done.  I didn’t preach without direction.”

“Direction!  I know very well what you mean by direction,” said Mrs. Poyser, knitting in a rapid and agitated manner.  “When there’s a bigger maggot than usual in your head you call it ‘direction’; and then nothing can stir you—­you look like the statty o’ the outside o’ Treddles’on church, a-starin’ and a-smilin’ whether it’s fair weather or foul.  I hanna common patience with you.”

By this time the two gentlemen had reached the palings and had got down from their horses:  it was plain they meant to come in.  Mrs. Poyser advanced to the door to meet them, curtsying low and trembling between anger with Dinah and anxiety to conduct herself with perfect propriety on the occasion.  For in those days the keenest of bucolic minds felt a whispering awe at the sight of the gentry, such as of old men felt when they stood on tiptoe to watch the gods passing by in tall human shape.

“Well, Mrs. Poyser, how are you after this stormy morning?” said Mr. Irwine, with his stately cordiality.  “Our feet are quite dry; we shall not soil your beautiful floor.”

“Oh, sir, don’t mention it,” said Mrs. Poyser.  “Will you and the captain please to walk into the parlour?”

“No, indeed, thank you, Mrs. Poyser,” said the captain, looking eagerly round the kitchen, as if his eye were seeking something it could not find.  “I delight in your kitchen.  I think it is the most charming room I know.  I should like every farmer’s wife to come and look at it for a pattern.”

“Oh, you’re pleased to say so, sir.  Pray take a seat,” said Mrs. Poyser, relieved a little by this compliment and the captain’s evident good-humour, but still glancing anxiously at Mr. Irwine, who, she saw, was looking at Dinah and advancing towards her.