The widow coughed confusedly and told him not to be foolish.

"Ask my wife," said the farmer, impressively; "they were talking about
you for hours. He's a very shy man is my wife's uncle, but you should
see his face change when your name's mentioned."

As a matter of fact, Mr. Bodfish's face was at that very moment taking on
a deeper shade of crimson.

"Everything you do seems to interest him," continued the farmer,
disregarding Mrs. Driver's manifest distress; "he was asking Lizzie about
your calling on Monday; how long you stayed, and where you sat; and after
she'd told him, I'm blest if he didn't go and sit in the same chair!"

This romantic setting to a perfectly casual action on the part of Mr.
Bodfish affected the widow visibly, but its effect on the ex-constable
nearly upset the bread-pan.

"But here," continued Mr. Negget, with another glance at the larder, "he
might go on like that for years. He's a wunnerful shy man--big, and
gentle, and shy. He wanted Lizzie to ask you to tea yesterday."

"Now, Mr. Negget," said the blushing widow. "Do be quiet."

"Fact," replied the farmer; "solemn fact, I assure you. And he asked her
whether you were fond of jewellery."

"I met him twice in the road near here yesterday," said Mrs. Clowes,
suddenly. "Perhaps he was waiting for you to come out."