cream-cheeses," said Mrs Irwine. "She has the spirit of three men, with that pale face of hers; and she says such sharp things too."
"Sharp! yes, her tongue is like a new-set razor. She's quite original in her talk, too; one of those untaught wits that help to stock a country with proverbs. I told you that capital thing I heard her say about Craig—that he was like a cock who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow. Now that's an Æsop's fable in a sentence."
"But it will be a bad business if the old gentleman turns them out of the farm next Michaelmas, eh?" said Mrs Irwine.
"O that must not be; and Poyser is such a good tenant, that Donnithorne is likely to think twice, and digest his spleen rather than turn them out. But if he should give them notice at Lady Day, Arthur and I must move heaven and earth to mollify him. Such old parishioners as they are must not go."
"Ah, there's no knowing what may happen before Lady Day," said Mrs Irwine. "It struck me on Arthur's birthday that the old man was a little shaken: he's eighty-three, you know. It's really an unconscionable age. It's only women who have a right to live as long as that."
