“Why, yes, our farm-labourers are not easily roused.  They take life almost as slowly as the sheep and cows.  But we have some intelligent workmen about here.  I daresay you know the Bedes; Seth Bede, by the by, is a Methodist.”

“Yes, I know Seth well, and his brother Adam a little.  Seth is a gracious young man—­sincere and without offence; and Adam is like the patriarch Joseph, for his great skill and knowledge and the kindness he shows to his brother and his parents.”

“Perhaps you don’t know the trouble that has just happened to them?  Their father, Matthias Bede, was drowned in the Willow Brook last night, not far from his own door.  I’m going now to see Adam.”

“Ah, their poor aged mother!” said Dinah, dropping her hands and looking before her with pitying eyes, as if she saw the object of her sympathy.  “She will mourn heavily, for Seth has told me she’s of an anxious, troubled heart.  I must go and see if I can give her any help.”

As she rose and was beginning to fold up her work, Captain Donnithorne, having exhausted all plausible pretexts for remaining among the milk-pans, came out of the dairy, followed by Mrs. Poyser.  Mr. Irwine now rose also, and, advancing towards Dinah, held out his hand, and said, “Good-bye.  I hear you are going away soon; but this will not be the last visit you will pay your aunt—­so we shall meet again, I hope.”

His cordiality towards Dinah set all Mrs. Poyser’s anxieties at rest, and her face was brighter than usual, as she said, “I’ve never asked after Mrs. Irwine and the Miss Irwines, sir; I hope they’re as well as usual.”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Poyser, except that Miss Anne has one of her bad headaches to-day.  By the by, we all liked that nice cream-cheese you sent us—­my mother especially.”

“I’m very glad, indeed, sir.  It is but seldom I make one, but I remembered Mrs. Irwine was fond of ’em.  Please to give my duty to her, and to Miss Kate and Miss Anne.  They’ve never been to look at my poultry this long while, and I’ve got some beautiful speckled chickens, black and white, as Miss Kate might like to have some of amongst hers.”

“Well, I’ll tell her; she must come and see them.  Good-bye,” said the rector, mounting his horse.

“Just ride slowly on, Irwine,” said Captain Donnithorne, mounting also.  “I’ll overtake you in three minutes.  I’m only going to speak to the shepherd about the whelps.  Good-bye, Mrs. Poyser; tell your husband I shall come and have a long talk with him soon.”

Mrs. Poyser curtsied duly, and watched the two horses until they had disappeared from the yard, amidst great excitement on the part of the pigs and the poultry, and under the furious indignation of the bull-dog, who performed a Pyrrhic dance, that every moment seemed to threaten the breaking of his chain.  Mrs. Poyser delighted in this noisy exit; it was a fresh assurance to her that the farm-yard was well guarded, and that no loiterers could enter unobserved; and it was not until the gate had closed behind the captain that she turned into the kitchen again, where Dinah stood with her bonnet in her hand, waiting to speak to her aunt, before she set out for Lisbeth Bede’s cottage.