But while such things were waiting to be done till they were thought of,
the time for doing them went by; and to think of them was memory. Master
Popplewell had told Captain Anerley continually what his opinions were,
fairly giving him to know on each occasion that they were to be taken
for what they were worth; that it did not follow, from his own success
in life, that he might not be mistaken now; and that he did not care a
d--n, except for Christian feeling, whether any fool hearkened to him
twice or not. He said that he never had been far out in any opinion he
had formed in all his life; but none the more for that would he venture
to foretell a thing with cross-purposes about it. A man of sagacity and
dealings with the world might happen to be right ninety-nine times in
a hundred, and yet he might be wrong the other time. Therefore he would
not give any opinion, except that everybody would be sorry by-and-by,
when things were too late for mending.

To this the farmer listened with an air of wisdom, not put forward too
severely; because Brother Popplewell had got a lot of money, and must
behave handsomely when in a better world. The simplest way of treating
him was just to let him talk--for it pleased him, and could do no
harm--and then to recover self-content by saying what a fool he was when
out of hearing. The tanner partly suspected this; and it put his nature
upon edge; for he always drove his opinions in as if they were so many
tenpenny nails, which the other man must either clinch or strike back
into his teeth outright. He would rather have that than flabby silence,
as if he were nailing into dry-rot.

"I tell you what it is," he said, the third time he came over, which was
well within a week--for nothing breeds impatience faster than retirement
from work--"you are so thick-headed in your farmhouse ways, sometimes
I am worn out with you. I do not expect to be thought of any higher
because I have left off working for myself; and Deborah is satisfied to
be called 'Debby,' and walks no prouder than if she had got to clean
her own steps daily. You can not enter into what people think of me,
counting Parson Beloe; and therefore it is no good saying anything about
it. But, Stephen, you may rely upon it that you will be sorry afterward.
That poor girl, the prettiest girl in Yorkshire, and the kindest, and
the best, is going off her victuals, and consuming of her substance,
because you will not even look at her. If