Summarize the following text to main points and sub-points and make detailed explain for them:

out and 
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making subdued noises, very much like a guinea-pig that twitches its 
nose and soliloquizes in all company indiscriminately—now blinked and 
fidgeted towards the Squire, and said, "Oh, no—no offence." 
This emphatic compliment of the Squire's to Nancy was felt by others 
besides Godfrey to have a diplomatic significance; and her father gave a 
slight additional erectness to his back, as he looked across the table at 
her with complacent gravity. That grave and orderly senior was not going 
to bate a jot of his dignity by seeming elated at the notion of a match 
between his family and the Squire's: he was gratified by any honour paid 
to his daughter; but he must see an alteration in several ways before his 
consent would be vouchsafed. His spare but healthy person, and high-
featured firm face, that looked as if it had never been flushed by excess, 
was in strong contrast, not only with the Squire's, but with the 
appearance of the Raveloe farmers generally—in accordance with a 
favourite saying of his own, that "breed was stronger than pasture". 
"Miss Nancy's wonderful like what her mother was, though; isn't she, 
Kimble?" said the stout lady of that name, looking round for her 
husband. 
But Doctor Kimble (country apothecaries in old days enjoyed that title 
without authority of diploma), being a thin and agile man, was flitting 
about the room with his hands in his pockets, making himself agreeable 
to his feminine patients, with medical impartiality, and being welcomed 
everywhere as a doctor by hereditary right—not one of those miserable 
apothecaries who canvass for practice in strange neighbourhoods, and 
spend all their income in starving their one horse, but a man of 
substance, able to keep an extravagant table like the best of his patients. 
Time out of mind the Raveloe doctor had been a Kimble; Kimble was 
inherently a doctor's name; and it was difficult to contemplate firmly the 
melancholy fact that the actual Kimble had no son, so that his practice 
might one day be handed over to a successor with the incongruous name 
of Taylor or Johnson. But in that case the wiser people in Raveloe would 
employ Dr. Blick of Flitton—as less unnatural. 
"Did you speak to me, my dear?" said the authentic doctor, coming 
quickly to his wife's side; but, as if foreseeing that she would be too much 
out of breath to repeat her remark, he went on immediately—"Ha, Miss 
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Priscilla, the sight of you revives the taste of that super-excellent pork-
pie. I hope the batch isn't near an end." 
"Yes, indeed, it is, doctor," said Priscilla; "but I'll answer for it the next 
shall be as good. My pork-pies don't turn out well by chance." 
"Not as your doctoring does, eh, Kimble?—because folks forget to take 
your physic, eh?" said the Squire, who regarded physic and doctors as 
many loyal churchmen regard the church and the clergy—tasting a joke 
against them when he was in health, but impatiently eager for their aid 
when anything was the matter with him. He tapped his box, and looked 
round with a triumphant laugh. 
"Ah, she has a quick wit, my friend Priscilla has," said the doctor, 
choosing to attribute the epigram to a lady rather than allow a brother-
in-law that advantage over him. "She saves a little pepper to sprinkle 
over her talk—that's the reason why she never puts too much into her 
pies. There's my wife now, she never has an answer at her tongue's end; 
but if I offend her, she's sure to scarify my throat with black pepper the 
next day, or else give me the colic with watery greens. That's an awful tit-
for-tat." Here the vivacious doctor made a pathetic grimace. 
"Did you ever hear the like?" said Mrs. Kimble, laughing above her 
double chin with much good-humour, aside to Mrs. Crackenthorp, who 
blinked and nodded, and seemed to intend a smile, which, by the 
correlation of forces, went off in small twitchings and noises. 
"I suppose that's the sort of tit-for-tat adopted in your profession, 
Kimble, if you've a grudge against a patient," said the rector. 
"Never do have a grudge against our patients," said Mr. Kimble, "except 
when they leave us: and then, you see, we haven't the chance of 
prescribing for 'em. Ha, Miss Nancy," he continued, suddenly skipping to 
Nancy's side, "you won't forget your promise? You're to save a dance for 
me, you know." 
"Come, come, Kimble, don't you be too for'ard," said the Squire. "Give 
the young uns fair-play. There's my son Godfrey'll be wanting to have a 
round with you if you run off with Miss Nancy. He's bespoke her for the 
first dance, I'll be bound. Eh, sir! what do you say?" he continued, 
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throwing himself backward, and looking at Godfrey. "Haven't you asked 
Miss Nancy to open the dance with you?" 
Godfrey, sorely uncomfortable under this significant insistence about 
Nancy, and afraid to think where it would end by the time his father had 
set his usual hospitable example of drinking before and after supper, saw 
no course open but to turn to Nancy and say, with as little awkwardness 
as possible— 
"No; I've not asked her yet, but I hope she'll consent—if somebody else 
hasn't been before me." 
"No, I've not engaged myself," said Nancy, quietly, though blushingly. (If 
Mr. Godfrey founded any hopes on her consenting to dance with him, he 
would soon be undeceived; but there was no need for her to be uncivil.) 
"Then I hope you've no objections to dancing with me," said Godfrey, 
beginning to lose the sense that there was anything uncomfortable in this 
arrangement. 
"No, no objections," said Nancy, in a cold tone. 
"Ah, well, you're a lucky fellow, Godfrey," said uncle Kimble; "but you're 
my godson, so I won't stand in your way. Else I'm not so very old, eh, my 
dear?" he went on, skipping to his wife's side again. "You wouldn't mind 
my having a second after you were gone—not if I cried a good deal first?" 
"Come, come, take a cup o' tea and stop your tongue, do," said good-
humoured Mrs. Kimble, feeling some pride in a husband who must be 
regarded as so clever and amusing by the company generally. If he had 
only not been irritable at cards! 
While safe, well-tested personalities were enlivening the tea in this way, 
the sound of the fiddle approaching within a distance at which it could be 
heard distinctly, made the young people look at each other with 
sympathetic impatience for the end of the meal. 
"Why, there's Solomon in the hall," said the Squire, "and playing my 
fav'rite tune, I believe—"The flaxen-headed ploughboy"—he's for giving 
us a hint as we aren't enough in a hurry to hear him play. Bob," he called 
out to his third long-legged son, who was at the other end of the room, 
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"open the door, and tell Solomon to come in. He shall give us a tune 
here." 
Bob obeyed, and Solomon walked in, fiddling as he walked, for he would 
on no account break off in the middle of a tune. 
"Here, Solomon," said the Squire, with loud patronage. "Round here, my 
man. Ah, I knew it was "The flaxen-headed ploughboy": there's no finer 
tune." 
Solomon Macey, a small hale old man with an abundant crop of long 
white hair reaching nearly to his shoulders, advanced to the indicated 
spot, bowing reverently while he fiddled, as much as to say that he 
respected the company, though he respected the key-note more. As soon 
as he had repeated the tune and lowered his fiddle, he bowed again to 
the Squire and the rector, and said, "I hope I see your honour and your 
reverence well, and wishing you health and long life and a happy New 
Year. And wishing the same to you, Mr. Lammeter, sir; and to the other 
gentlemen, and the madams, and the young lasses." 
As Solomon uttered the last words, he bowed in all directions 
solicitously, lest he should be wanting in due respect. But thereupon he 
immediately began to prelude, and fell into the tune which he knew 
would be taken as a special compliment by Mr. Lammeter. 
"Thank ye, Solomon, thank ye," said Mr. Lammeter when the fiddle 
paused again. "That's "Over the hills and far away", that is. My father 
used to say to me, whenever we heard that tune, "Ah, lad, I come from 
over the hills and far away." There's a many tunes I don't make head or 
tail of; but that speaks to me like the blackbird's whistle. I suppose it's 
the name: there's a deal in the name of a tune." 
But Solomon was already impatient to prelude again, and presently 
broke with much spirit into "Sir Roger de Coverley", at which there was a 
sound of chairs pushed back, and laughing voices. 
"Aye, aye, Solomon, we know what that means," said the Squire, rising. 
"It's time to begin the dance, eh? Lead the way, then, and we'll all follow 
you." 
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So Solomon, holding his white head on one side, and playing vigorously, 
marched forward at the head of the gay procession into the White 
Parlour, where the mistletoe-bough was hung, and multitudinous tallow 
candles made rather a brilliant effect, gleaming from among the berried 
holly-boughs, 

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