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"Poor Joe were stood i' th' doorway, ye know, an' he sighed an' licked his lips, th' poor chap, but he didn't get nought. Miss Hep. didn't fancy nobody but me." "Thou'll be for coortin' her next," suggested somebody humorously. "Nay, nay," said an odd little short man with comically uplifted eyebrows. "'T wouldn't be no use coortin' Margaret Heptonstall.
It 'ud be more to our mutual advantage," delivering this phrase, culled from one of his favourite papers, with great emphasis, "nor for both of us to remain single. That's what I think, Miss Heptonstall, but ye mun do as you choose." "Well, theer's summat i' what ye say," returned Margaret. "Happen 'twould be best to get the job done. Dear o' me, it seems sudden like!
"I were jest wonderin' to mysel', seein' you're so manageable an' clever an' that, as you hadn't never thought o' gettin' wed an' doin' for a husband as well as yoursel'. I raly do wonder, Miss Heptonstall," he repeated insinuatingly, "as ye haven't getten wed." He expected Margaret to be surprised and flattered, but she gave no indication of being either the one or the other.
Margaret looked over her shoulder and snorted; then, without returning yea or nay, she stalked over the cobble-stones and entered her kitchen, followed meekly by her visitor. Miss Heptonstall did not turn her head until the sound of Ted's boots, falling upon her tiled floor, made her look round sharply. "If ye're for coomin' in ye'd best wipe your feet," she announced briefly.
I reckon if onybody was to ax to wed you, Miss Heptonstall, he'd be a steady-goin' sort o' fellow as wouldn't be up to they mak' o' games." Margaret smiled outright. Ted thought he would follow up his advantage and clinch the point at once. "Now, Miss Heptonstall," said he, "for instance, if I was to coom coortin' ye, I wouldn't be thinkin' of onything but makkin' ye coomfortable.
"Naw," said Miss Heptonstall, "I wouldn't go as far as that; I like a glass o' beer mysel' at dinner-time I allus keep a little cask i' th' buttery yon but you'll ha' to gi' o'er callin' at th' Thornleigh Arms." "Tisn't like I'd want to be callin' at th' Thornleigh Arms if I'd a coomfortable place like this to set in o' neets, and a missus o' my own to look to."
Ted followed her into the kitchen, while Joe stood without, craning forward his neck to see what was going on in the interior of the cottage, and drawing the back of his hand across his lips when he saw Miss Heptonstall produce a small bottle of whisky. "He looks a dale livelier now," remarked Ted, uncloaking the gander and setting it on its legs on Margaret's immaculate table.
On the third Sunday the general excitement reached fever-height, and when once more the Canon linked the names of Edward Wharton and Margaret Heptonstall, a kind of amazed murmur rippled from bench to bench. All those who had been party to the plot against Margaret's peace were totally at a loss to account for the conduct of the chief conspirator.
He walked rather slowly till he reached the corner of the lane, and there he paused, slapping his thigh as he suddenly remembered something. "I haven't said a word about the shoutin'!" he cried in a vexed tone. He retraced his steps more quickly, and presently re-entered Margaret's cottage. "Miss Heptonstall," he began, screwing his head insinuatingly round the doorpost.
On the following afternoon, just at the time when young Thornleigh went a-coortin', and elderly Thornleigh took off its boots and coat, or put a clean white handkerchief over its cap, the better to enjoy its Sabbath snooze in the ingle-nook, Ted Wharton cocked his hat over his eye, put a posy in his coat, and set off to call on Margaret Heptonstall.
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