omen wouldna ha' been a bad
invention if they'd all been like Dinah."

"I meant her voice, man--I meant her voice, that was all," said Bartle.
"I can bear to hear her speak without wanting to put wool in my ears. As
for other things, I daresay she's like the rest o' the women--thinks
two and two 'll come to make five, if she cries and bothers enough about
it."

"Aye, aye!" said Mrs. Poyser; "one 'ud think, an' hear some folks talk,
as the men war 'cute enough to count the corns in a bag o' wheat wi'
only smelling at it. They can see through a barn-door, they can. Perhaps
that's the reason THEY can see so little o' this side on't."

Martin Poyser shook with delighted laughter and winked at Adam, as much
as to say the schoolmaster was in for it now.

"Ah!" said Bartle sneeringly, "the women are quick enough--they're quick
enough. They know the rights of a story before they hear it, and can
tell a man what his thoughts are before he knows 'em himself."

"Like enough," said Mrs. Poyser, "for the men are mostly so slow, their
thoughts overrun 'em, an' they can only catch 'em by the tail. I can
count a stocking-top while a man's getting's tongue ready an' when he
outs wi' his speech at last, there's little broth to be made on't. It's
your dead chicks take the longest hatchin'. Howiver, I'm not denyin' the
women are foolish: God Almighty made 'em to match the men."

"Match!" said Bartle. "Aye, as vinegar matches one's teeth. If a man
says a word, his wife 'll match it with a contradiction; if he's a
mind for hot meat, his wife 'll match it with cold bacon; if he laughs,
she'll match him with whimpering. She's such a match as the horse-fly
is to th' horse: she's got the right venom to sting him with--the right
venom to sting him with."

"Yes," said Mrs. Poyser, "I know what the men like--a poor soft, as 'ud
simper at 'em like the picture o' the sun, whether they did right or
wrong, an' say thank you for a kick, an' pretend she didna know which
end she stood uppermost, till her husband told her. That's what a man
wants in a wife, mostly; he wants to make sure o' one fool as 'ull tell
him he's wise. But there's some men can do wi'out that--they think so
much o' themselves a'ready. An' that's how it is there's old bachelors."

"Come, Craig," said Mr. Poyser jocosely, "you mun get married pretty
quick, else you'll be set down for an old bachelor; an' you see what the
women 'ull think on you."

"Well," said Mr. Craig, will