something more I've got to say. I want you to be my--what is it they
call it, Susan?"

"I don't know," said she, half-laughing, but trying to get away with
all her might now; and she was a strong girl, but she could not
manage it.

"You do. My--what is it I want you to be?"

"I tell you I don't know, and you had best be quiet, and just let me
go in, or I shall think you're as bad now as you were last night."

"And how did you know what I was last night? It was past twelve when
I came home. Were you watching? Ah, Susan! be my wife, and you
shall never have to watch for a drunken husband. If I were your
husband, I would come straight home, and count every minute an hour
till I saw your bonny face. Now you know what I want you to be. I
ask you to be my wife. Will you, my own dear Susan?"

She did not speak for some time. Then she only said "Ask father."
And now she was really off like a lapwing round the corner of the
barn, and up in her own little room, crying with all her might,
before the triumphant smile had left Michael's face where he stood.

The "Ask father" was a mere form to be gone though. Old Daniel Hurst
and William Dixon had talked over what they could respectively give
their children before this; and that was the parental way of
arranging such matters. When the probable amount of worldly gear
that he could give his child had been named by each father, the young
folk, as they said, might take their own time in coming to the point