“_Indeed_,” said Sam, “might I make so bold as to inquire if the lady’s name is Miss Anne Clarke?” “Anne Clarke,” repeated the trooper vacantly; the name awakened no response in his memory. “Why, don’t you know,” cried Sam, “your _little charmer_ of the Roebuck Inn—a regular _beauty_, Mr. Willcocks. _Your_ beauty, you know. Why I understood you was a-going to take her to South Africa wi’ you.” “What the devil are you at?” cried Willcocks irritably. “What do you mean by talking all that rubbish to me?” “No you don’t,” cried Sam, “I’m not to be put off like that, Trooper Willcocks. I’m here on behalf of that very lady—if the matter can be settled private, so much the better; if not, she’s determined to take it into court.” A sudden pallor overspread the yeoman’s visage, perceptible even beneath its tan; he was a soft young fellow in spite of all his daring, and the very name of the law-courts terrified him. “The fact is,” said Cross jovially, “you haven’t no very clear rec’lection of it, I dessay—you’re such a one with the ladies aren’t you? But sometimes a chap goes too far—an’ when it comes to making a reg’lar proposal of marriage—you’ll find you’ll have to stick to it, or else be let in for more than you bargained for.” “But really,” said the other, almost piteously, “I’ve no notion at all o’ what you’re drivin’ at. Who is Anne Clarke, an’ where did I meet her?” Sam drew nearer and button-holed him confidentially. “You know the Roebuck Inn, over the downs yonder? You went there last Toosday with one or two friends—an’ you carried on fearful with the old man’s daughter—a beauty, I tell ye. You was a bit on at the time, but you must remember.” “I remember goin’ there,” admitted Willcocks, “but I can’t call to mind no young gal.” “That’s a pity,” returned Sam. “She knows all about you, I can tell you, and she have it settled in her own mind to consult our guv’nor to-morrow, without you come to some amicable arrangement first. ‘Money or Matrimony,’ says she.” “Matrimony?” ejaculated Willcocks, his jaw dropping. “Ye-es, matrimony,” repeated Sam, darting a sidelong glance at his victim, and meditatively scratching his jaw. “I rather think the lady’s fancy is set that way. You should ha’ seen her smile when we talked on it.” “What in the name of fortun’ am I to do?” inquired the yeoman, with a helpless glance; a mouse might as profitably have appealed to the cat in whose claws it found itself. “The folks are comin’ out o’ church now,” cried Cross eagerly. “Just you step in under this here archway, Trooper, an’ look out cautious, but keep out o’ sight yourself. I shouldn’t wonder if Miss Clarke was here—I’ll p’int her out to you.”