"
"In fact you reckon yourself a proper angel in the house," I said in my
comical tone of voice. But he didn't see nothing very funny in that.
"So I do," he said. "It was always my intention to settle down and be
somebody's right hand man some day; and if it hadn't been your sister, it
would have been some other body. I'm built like that," he added. "I never
did much good for myself, owing to my inquiring mind and great interest in
other people; but I've done good for others more than once, and shall
again."
"And what about the church-going?" I asked him. "Is that all 'my eye and
Betty Martin,' or do you go because you like going?"
"'Tis a good thing for the women to go to church," he answered, "and your
sister is all the better for it, and has often thanked me for putting her
in the way."
"'Twas more than I could do, though I've often been at her," I told the
man, admiring his determined character.
And then came the beginning of the real fun, when Mary turned up at
Brownberry after dark one night in a proper tantara, with her eyes rolling
and her bosom heaving like the waves of the sea. She'd come over Dart, by
the stepping stones--a tricky road for an old woman even by daylight, but
a fair marvel at night.
"God's my judge!" began Mary, dropping in the chair by the fire. "God's my
judge, Rupert and Susan, but he's offered marriage!"
"Bob!" I said; and yet I weren't so surprised as I pretended to be.
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