What the pen is to the poet, such is the spade to the working man." He took the kerchief from his neck, wiped his temples as if the sweat of honest toil were there, and calmly tied it on again.
"If you'll 'scuse a remark from a common man," he observed, "your ladyship has a fine family of daughters." "They are not my daughters," said Miss Wilson, rather shortly.
"Sisters, mebbe ?" "No." "I thought they mout be, acause I have a sister myself.

Not that I would make bold for to dror comparisons, even in my own mind, for she's only a common woman--as common a one as ever you see.

But few women rise above the common.

Last Sunday, in yon village church, I heard the minister read out that one man in a thousand had he found, 'but one woman in all these,' he says, 'have I not found,' and I thinks to myself, 'Right you are!' But I warrant he never met your ladyship." A laugh, thinly disguised as a cough, escaped from Miss Carpenter.
"Young lady a-ketchin' cold, I'm afeerd," he said, with respectful solicitude.
"Do you think the rain will last long ?" said Agatha politely.
The man examined the sky with a weather-wise air for some moments.

Then he turned to Agatha, and replied humbly: "The Lord only knows, Miss.