"His short wages, I suppose--sixteen shillings a week." "Sixteen shillings a week short wages!" echoed Grizzel. "I call 'em good wages, sir. I'd never be afraid of getting along on them with a steady man--and Roper's that. It ain't the wages, Master Johnny. It is, that I promised mother never to begin life upon less than a cottage and some things in it." "How do you mean?" "Poor mother was a-dying, sir. Her illness lasted her many a week, and she might be said to be a-dying all the time. I was eighteen then. 'Grizzy,' says she to me one night, 'you be a likely girl and 'll get chose afore you be many summers older. But you must promise me that you'll not, on no temptation whatsoever, say yes to a man till he has a home of his own to take you to, and beds and tables and things comfortable about him. Once begin without 'em, and you and him 'll spend all your after life looking out for 'em; but they'll not come any the more for that. And you'll be at sixes-and-sevens always: and him, why perhaps he'll take to the beer-shop--for many a man does, through having, so to say, no home. I've seen the ill of it in my days,' she says, 'and if I thought you'd tumble into it I'd hardly rest quiet in the grave where you be so soon a-going to place me.' 'Be at ease, mother,' says I to her in answer, 'and take my promise, which I'll never break, not to set-up for marriage without a home o' my own and proper things in it.' That promise I can't break, Master Johnny; and there has laid the root of the trouble all along." I saw then. Roper had nothing but a lodging, not a stick or stone that he could call his own. And the foolish man, instead of saving up out of his wages, spent the remnant in buying pretty things for Grizzel. It was a hopeless case. "You should never have had anything to say to Roper, knowing this, Grizzel." Grizzel twirled the sweet peas round and round in her fingers, and looked foolish, answering nothing. "Lett has a good home to give you and means to keep it going. He must make a couple of pounds a week. Perhaps more." "But then I don't care for him, Master Johnny." "Give him up then. Send him about his business." She might have been counting the blossoms on the sweet-pea stalks. Presently she spoke, without looking up. "You see, Master Johnny, one does not like to--to lose all one's chances, and grow into an old maid. And, if I _can't_ have Roper, perhaps--in time--I might bring myself to take Lett. It's a better opportunity than a poor dairy-maid like me could ever ha' looked for." The cat was out of the bag. Grizzel was keeping Lett on for a remote contingency. When she could make up her mind to say No to Roper, she meant to say Yes to him. "It is awful treachery to Roper; keeping him on only to drop him at last," ran my thoughts. "Were I he, I should give her a good shaking, and leave----"