"I've seen too much on 'em!" responded Dan, conclusively. "I've got a
wife and six lasses."

"Bertha, we'd better mind our ways!" said Emma, laughing.

"Nay, it's none you," was Dan's comment. "You're middlin' decent, you
two. So's Avice; and so's old Christopher's Regina. I know of ne'er
another, without it 's t' cat--and she scratches like t' rest when she's
put out. There _is_ other decent 'uns, happen. They haven't come my
way yet."

"Why, Father!" cried Emma. "Think who you're lumping together--the Lady
Queen, and my Lady at the Castle, and Lady Margaret, and the Dean's
sister, and--"

"Thou'll be out o' breath, if thou reckons all thou'st heard tell of,"
said Dan. "There's cats o' different sorts, child: some's snowy white
(when so be they've none been i' th' ash-hole), and some's tabby, and
some's black as iron; but they all scrats. Women's like 'em.--You're
wise men, you parsons and such, as have nought to do wi' 'em. Old
Christopher, my neighbour up at smithy, he says weddin's like a bag full
o' snakes wi' one eel amongst 'em: you ha' to put your hand in, and you
may get th' eel. But if you dunna--why you've got to do t' best you can
wi' one o' t' other lot. If you'll keep your hand out of the bag you'll
stand best chance of not getting bit."

"It is a pity thou wert not a monk, my son," said the priest, whose
gravity seemed hard to keep.

"Ay, it is!" was Dan's hearty response. "I'm alway fain to pass a
nunnery. Says I to myself, There's a bonnie lot o' snakes safe tied up
out o' folkses' way. They'll never fly at nobody no more. I'm fain for
the men as hasn't got 'em. Ay, I am!"

Avice and her young cousins laughed.

"Do you think they never fly at one another, Uncle Dan?" asked the
former.

"Let 'em!" returned that gentleman with much cordiality. "A man gets a
bit o' peace then. It's t' only time he does. If they'd just go and
make a reg'lar end o' one another! but they never does,"--and the smith
pushed away his trencher with a sigh. "Well! I reckon I mun be going.
She gave me while four:--and I'm feared o' vesper bell ringing afore I
can get home. There'll be more bells nor one, if so. God be wi' ye,
lasses! Good even, Father."

And the door was shut on the unhappy husband of the delightful Filomena.
Emma took leave soon after, and Bertha went with her, to see another
friend before she returned to her employer's house. Avice and the
priest were left alone. For a f