"
Rickett pulled at his pipe with a grunt. When not at work, it was
usually his role to sit and listen to his wife's chatter.
"She ain't been brought up in a convent," continued Mrs. Rickett.
"That's plain to see. With all the gentle ways of her, she knows how to
hold her own. Young Robin Green, he's gone just plumb moon-crazy over
her, and it wouldn't surprise me"--Mrs. Rickett lowered her voice
mysteriously--"but what some day Dick himself was to do the same."
"Ah!" said the smith.
"She's so taking, you know," said Mrs. Rickett, as if in extenuation of
this outrageous surmise. "And there isn't anyone good enough for him
about here. Of course there's the infant teacher--that Jarvis girl--she'd
set her cap at him if she dared. But he wouldn't look at her. Young
Jack's a deal more likely, if ever he does settle down--which I doubt.
But Dick--he's different. He's--why if that ain't Mr. Fielding a-riding
up the path! What ever do he want at this time of night? Go and see,
George, do!"
George lumbered to his feet obediently. "Happen he's come to call on our
young lady," he ventured, with a slow grin.
"Well, don't bring him in here!" commanded his wife.
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