Tom muttered unintelligibly. Mr Williams adjusted the top-hat without
which he never stirred abroad, even into his garden. He blinked
benevolently at Tom.

'You're making up to that young gal of Jane's,' he proceeded. 'You
can't deceive _me_. All these p'taties, and what not. _I_ seen
your game fast enough. Just you drop it, young Tom.'

'Why?' muttered Tom, rebelliously. A sudden distaste for old Mr
Williams blazed within him.

'Why? 'Cos you'll only burn your fingers if you don't, that's why. I
been watching this young gal of Jane's, and I seen what sort of a young
gal she be. She's a flipperty piece, that's what she be. You marry that
young gal, Tom, and you'll never have no more quiet and happiness.
She'd just take and turn the place upsy-down on you. The man as marries
that young gal has got to be master in his own home. He's got to show
her what's what. Now, you ain't got the devil in you to do that, Tom.
You're what I might call a sort of a sheep. I admires it in you, Tom. I
like to see a young man steady and quiet, same as what you be. So
that's how it is, you see. Just you drop this foolishness, young Tom,
and leave that young gal be, else you'll burn your fingers, same as
what I say.'

And, giving his top-hat a rakish tilt, the old gentleman ambled
indoors, satisfied that he had dropped a guarded hint in a pleasant and
tactful manner.

It is to be supposed that this interview stung Tom to swift action.
Otherwise, one cannot explain why he should not have been just as