"Well, I 'n half a mind t' ha' a look at her to-night, if there isn't good company at th' Holly-Bush. What'll she tek for her text? Happen ye can tell me, Seth, if so be as I shouldna come up i' time for't. Will't be, 'What come ye out for to see? A prophetess? Yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophetess'—a uncommon pretty young woman."
"Come, Ben," said Adam, rather sternly, "you let the words o' the Bible alone; you're going too far now."
"What! are ye a-turnin' roun', Adam? I thought ye war dead again th' women preachin', a while agoo?"
"Nay, I'm not turnin' noway. I said nought about the women preachin': I said, You let the Bible alone: you've got a jest-book, han't you, as you're rare and proud on? Keep your dirty fingers to that."
"Why, y'are gettin' as big a saint as Seth. Y're goin' to th' preachin' to-night, I should think. Ye'll do finely t' lead the singin'. But I dun know what Parson Irwine 'ull say at 's gran' favright Adam Bede a-turnin' Methody."
"Never do you bother yourself about me, Ben.
