"A course not!" said the--old man, with a nod of profound
approval--" it aren't to be expected. Let's see, it be all o'
four months since I found ye, bean't it?"
"Four months and a few odd days," I nodded, and fell to work upon
my glowing iron bar: "Ye'll make a tidy smith one o' these days, Peter," said the old
man encouragingly, as I straightened my back and plunged the iron
back into the fire.
"Thank you, Ancient."
"Ay--you've larned to use a 'ammer purty well, considerin',
though you be wastin' your opportoonities shameful, Peter,
shameful."
"Am I, Ancient?"
"Ay, that ye be--moon can't last much longer--she be on the wane
a'ready!"
"Moon?" said I, staring.
"Ah, moon!" nodded the old man; "theer's nowt like a moon, Peter,
an' if she be at the full so much the better."
"But what have the moon and I to do with each other, Ancient?"
"Old I be, Peter, a old, old man, but I were young once, an' I
tell 'ee the moon 'as a lot more to do wi' it than some folks
think--why, Lord love 'ee! theer wouldn't be near so many
children a-playin' in the sun if it wasn't for the moon!"
"Ancient," said I, "what might you be driving at?"
"Love, Peter!"
"Love!" said I, letting go the handle of the bellows.
"An' marriage, Peter."
"What in the world--put--such thoughts into your head?"
"You did, Peter."
"I?"
"Ah!--some men is born lovers, Peter, an' you be one. I never
see such eyes as yourn afore, so burnin' 'ot they be. Ah, Peter!
some maid will see the lovelight aflame in 'em some day, an'
droop 'er 'ead an' blush an' tremble--for she'll know, Peter,
she'll know; maids was made to be loved, Peter--"
"But, Ancient, I am not the kind of man women would be attracted
by. I love books and solitude, and am called a--pedant! and,
besides, I am not of a loving sort--"
"Some men, Peter, falls in love as easy as they falls out; it
comes to some soft an' quiet--like the dawn of a summer's day,
Peter; but to others it comes like a gert an' tur'ble storm--oh,
that it do! Theer's a fire ready to burn up inside o' ye at the
touch o' some woman's 'and, or the peep o' 'er eye--ah! a fire
as'll burn, an' burn, an' never go out again--not even if you
should live to be as old as I be--an' you'll be strong an' wild
an' fierce wi' it--an' some day you'll find 'er, Peter, an'
she'll find you--"