r. There ain't any of my paper flying about, Mrs Greenow. I'm
Samuel Cheesacre of Oileymead, and it's all my own." Mr Cheesacre, as
he thus spoke of his good fortunes and firm standing in the world,
became impetuous in the energy of the moment, and brought down his
fist powerfully on the slight table before them. The whole fabric
rattled, and the boat resounded, but the noise he had made seemed to
assist him. "It's all my own, Mrs Greenow, and the half of it shall
be yours if you'll please to take it;" then he stretched out his hand
to her, not as though he intended to grasp hers in a grasp of love,
but as if he expected some hand-pledge from her as a token that she
accepted the bargain.

"If you'd known Greenow, Mr Cheesacre--"

"I've no doubt he was a very good sort of man."

"If you'd known him, you would not have addressed me in this way."

"What difference would that make? My idea is that care killed a cat,
as I said before. I never knew what was the good of being unhappy.
If I find early mangels don't do on a bit of land, then I sow late
turnips; and never cry after spilt milk. Greenow was the early
mangels; I'll be the late turnips. Come then, say the word. There
ain't a bedroom in my house,--not one of the front ones,--that isn't
mahogany furnished!"

"What's furniture to me?" said Mrs Greenow, with her handkerchief to
her eyes.

Just at this moment Maria's mother stepped in under the canvas. It
was most inopportune. Mr Cheesacre felt that he was progressing well,
and was conscious that he had got safely over those fences in the
race which his bashfulness would naturally make difficult to him. He
knew that he had done this under the influence of the champagne, and
was aware that it might not be easy to procure again a combination
of circumstances that would be so beneficial to him. But now he was
interrupted just as he was expecting success. He was interrupted,
and felt himself to be looking like a guilty creature under the eye
of the strange lady. He had not a word to say; but drawing himself
suddenly a foot and half away from the widow's side, sat there
confessing his guilt in his face.

Mrs Greenow felt no guilt, and was afraid of no strange eyes. "Mr
Cheesacre and I are talking about farming," she said.

"Oh; farming!" answered Maria's mother.

"Mr Cheesacre thinks that turnips are better than early mangels,"
said Mrs Greenow.

"Yes, I do," said Cheesacre,

"I prefer the early mangels," said M