"Well, well," said Mr Poyser at last, "we needna fix iverything to-night. We must take time to consider. You canna think o' getting married afore Easter. I'm not for long courtships, but there must be a bit o' time to make things comfortable."
"Ay, to be sure," said Mrs Poyser, in a hoarse whisper; "Christian folks can't be married like cuckoos, I reckon."
"I'm a bit daunted, though," said Mr Poyser, "when I think as we may have notice to quit, and belike be forced to take a farm twenty mile off."
"Eh," said the old man, staring at the floor, and lifting his hands up and down, while his arms rested on the elbows of his chair, "it's a poor tale if I mun leave th' ould spot, an' be buried in a strange parish. An' you'll happen ha' double rates to pay," he added, looking up at his son.
"Well, thee mustna fret beforehand, father," said Martin the younger. "Happen the Captain 'ull come home and make our peace wi th' old Squire. I build upo' that, for I know the Captain 'll see folks righted if he can."
