“For God’s sake, spare me that at least, for God’s sake spare me that,” said Lovel in a voice of such anguish that even Daisy in the midst of her relief and jubilation was struck silent and ashamed. The gossip of Mrs. Quince and Martha Sparrow had not taken long to reach the Waggon of Hay through the medium of John Sparrow. Blowing his old frame out with importance, he had hastened off to this favourite resort with the intelligence as soon as his daughter had whispered it to him, fearful lest any might have forestalled him, and he be greeted with derision as a bringer of stale news. But he need not have feared: he was the first direct link between the Waggon of Hay and Starvecrow, and it was to a gratifying inquisitive audience that, after due mystification, he finally made his announcement. Mr. Calladine to marry Miss Clare! Well, here was good health to them both, and a strapping posterity, and a bumper went round. The topic took its place in popularity with the continuance of the dry weather (which was spoiling the roots), and the imminent arrival of a travelling circus, already advertised on hand-bills and posters all over the village. John Sparrow sat in the chimney corner with his pipe and his mug, and by recurrent reminders kept the fact green in the memory of his companions that, but for his connection with the Manor House, they would not yet have been in possession of the news. (And indeed, had they best known it, they were in possession of it even before the two persons chiefly concerned.) Every fresh arrival had to be told--“Well, now, Job, or Luke, or William, what sort of surprise do you think we have got for you?”--and laughter of the most elementary sort stirred the cobwebs about the rafters at every, “Well, to be sure, now, who would have thought it?” and the expressions of good-will to Miss Clare were many, though it was wished that she might have chosen a man who was a bit more of a man than Mr. Calladine.