But Hannah was half contemptuous. "It would have been better to have bought a good harmonium," she snorted; "it might have been useful some day--" She broke off abruptly, for none knew of her secret store towards the chapel; and there was no occasion to speak of it, since it had not yet reached the modest sum of twenty pounds. Money had perplexed Hannah a good deal of late; there was the desire to put it away for the pious dream of her soul, and the womanly impulse to spend it on finery--hard, prim finery. For at Petersfield there dwelt a thriving young house agent, in a good way of business, smart-looking and fair mustached, and possessed of a far-seeing mother, who had suggested that Hannah would have the farm and a bit of money some day, and make a thrifty wife into the bargain. This accounted for what might be called an investigation visit that Mr. Garratt paid her grandparents one Sunday afternoon when Hannah was at Petersfield, and his asking her to take him across the field to see a tree that had been struck by lightning the previous fortnight. Afterwards he had been pressed to stay for tea, and his tone was significant when he remarked on leaving that he had enjoyed himself very much, and hoped to get over to Chidhurst one Sunday for the morning service, and to see the grave of his aunt Amelia, who was buried there. Hannah being too grim--it was counted for shyness--to say anything pleasant for herself, old Mrs. Barton had told him, in a good business-like tone, that when he went he had better look out for Hannah and her mother, and walk back with them for dinner at the farm. This was two months ago, but still Hannah waited patiently, thinking that if he appeared it might be as well to hear what he had to say, since by this time she was well on in her twenties--at the fag end of them, in fact--and marriage was one of the possibilities to be considered in life. Thus every week brought its excitement to her, and as yet its disappointment.