"Yes," said she. "We saw him some time ago--just out there."

"Did you cry Halloo?"

"We said nothing."

"Then why the d---- didn't you, or get the old buffer to do it for you?"
said the man, as he cantered away.

She looked rather disconcerted at this reply, and observing her
father's face, saw that it was quite red.

"He ought not to have spoken to ye like that!" said the old man, in the
tone of one whose heart was bruised, though it was not by the epithet
applied to himself. "And he wouldn't if he had been a gentleman.
'Twas not the language to use to a woman of any niceness. You, so well
read and cultivated--how could he expect ye to know what tom-boy
field-folk are in the habit of doing? If so be you had just come from
trimming swedes or mangolds--joking with the rough work-folk and all
that--I could have stood it. But hasn't it cost me near a hundred a
year to lift you out of all that, so as to show an example to the
neighborhood of what a woman can be? Grace, shall I tell you the secret
of it? 'Twas because I was in your company. If a black-coated squire
or pa'son had been walking with you instead of me he wouldn't have
spoken so."

"No, no, father; there's nothing in you rough or ill-mannered!"