yourself well in hand. That's a matter of more than months for the best
of us."

"And then?" said Will, "after 'tis done? though I'm not allowin' I'm
anything but a ripe man as I stand here afore you now."

"Then I'd say, 'I'm glad to see you grawed into a credit to us all, Will
Blanchard, and worth your place in the order o' things; but you doan't
marry Phoebe Lyddon--never, never, never, not while I'm above ground.'"

His slow eyes looked calmly and kindly at Will, and he smiled into the
hot, young, furious face.

"That's your last word then?"

"It is, my lad."

"And you won't give a reason?"

"The reason is, 'what's bred in the bone comes out in the flesh.' I
knawed your faither. You'm as volatile as him wi'out his better paarts."

"Leave him wheer he lies--underground. If he'd lived 'stead of bein' cut
off from life, you'd 'a' bin proud to knaw him."

"A gypsy-man and no better, Will," said Mr. Blee. "Not but what he made
a gude end, I allow."

"Then I'll be up and away. I've spoke 'e fair, Miller--fair an'
straight--an' so you to me. You won't allow this match. Then we'll wed