yo'," he aided, "wheer's th' other lass, as ud ha' had th' pluck to do as mich?"
"I don't think there is another woman in the country who would have done it," said Mr. Haviland smiling. "We shall agree in our opinion of Miss Barholm, I see, Craddock, if we quarrel about everything else."
Sammy took out his flowered bandanna and wiped his bald forehead. He was at once mollified and encouraged. He felt that he was being treated with a kind of respect and consideration. Here was one of the gentry who placed himself on a friendly footing with him. Perhaps upon the whole he should not find it so difficult to reconcile himself to his change of position after all. And being thus encouraged, a certain bold simplicity made him address himself to Mr. Haviland not as a servant in prospective to a prospective master, but as man to man.
"Th' fact is," he said, "as I am na mich o' a lass's mon mysen, and I wunnot say as I ha' mich opinion o' woman foak i' general—they're flighty yo' see—they're flighty; but I mun say as I wur tuk by that little wench o' th' parson's—I wur tuk by her."
"She would be glad to hear it, I am sure," with an irony so suave that Sammy proceeded with fresh gravity.
"I mak' no doubt on't," dogmatically. "I mak' no doubt on't i' th' world, but I dunnot know as th' flattery ud do her good. Sugar sop is na o'er digestible to th' best o' em. They ha' to be held a bit i' check, yo' see. But hoo's a wonderfu' little lass—fur a lass, I mun admit. Seems a pity to ha' wasted so mich good lad metal on a slip o' a wench,—does na it?"
"You think so? Well, that is a matter of opinion, you know. However—concerning the lodge-keeper's place You understand what your duties would be, I suppose?"
