“It must be ‘yes’ or ‘no,’” continued Sol firmly. “If ye don’t say nothin’ I’ll take that for a answer. Now listen to I—” Grammer Roberts was not very quick of hearing, but she strained her ears to the utmost. “I’ll give ’ee till we get to the top of the lane, an’ if by that time ye haven’t spoke I’ll take it ye’re willin’ to keep company wi’ I. If there’s another chap about ye, ye must make up your mind to say so.” “There bain’t no other chap as I know on,” reflected Mrs Roberts, “but I’d like to know a bit more about this one.” As though in obedience to her unspoken wish, Sol, after another pause, proceeded to set forth his circumstances. “I bain’t much of a match for ’ee, I dare say—” Grammer shifted uneasily on her seat: she was sorry to hear that. “But you mid go further an’ fare worse. I’m earnin’ sixteen shillin’ a-week wi’ the promise of a rise at Lady Day.” The battered sailor hat nodded approvingly in the shadow. “I’ve not got no dibs save—” “That’s bad,” commented Grammer inwardly; “a few dibs ’ud ha come in handy.” “In fact I tramped here from Bridport wi’ just the clothes on my back.” “I don’t like that,” said Mrs Roberts to herself; “there were never no tramps in our family.” “’Twas my mother’s long sickness what cleared out all my savin’s. I couldn’t deny the poor wold body anythin’.” Here Mrs Roberts’ countenance assumed a benign expression: it spoke well for the young man that he should be so considerate to the old and weak. “I’m young, I’m strong,” summed up Sol energetically; “I’ll look after you so kind as I can if you’re willin’ to keep company wi’ I, an’ I’ll make ye a lovin’ husband when the time comes for us to be married. Here we be at the top of the lane now, and as ye haven’t spoke, I d’ ’low ye’re willin’ to take me.” Mrs Roberts jerked at the reins, but she was not quick enough for Sol, who in a moment leaped into the cart, and took up his position beside her. “Now then, my maid,” he cried jubilantly, “we’re sweethearts.” And with that he flung his arm round her waist, and endeavoured to plight his troth in the usual way. But to his surprise, not to say stupefaction, a shrill cackle of laughter fell upon his ears, and his advances were repelled by a vigorous thrust of a hand that was certainly not Sally’s. “Dear, to be sure!” cried a quavering voice. “Did ever anybody hear the like? There now! well, well! Dear heart alive! I d’ ’low you don’t know your own mind, young man.” Still crowing with uncanny laughter, she stretched out her wrinkled hand, detached the lantern from its hook, and held it up to her face. “Well, I’m—I’m dalled!” exclaimed Sol, utterly dumbfounded. “Ho! ho! ho!” cackled grammer. “Shall I speak out now, or be it too late? I d’ ’low ’tis too late an’ we be sweethearts.” “Here! wait! whoa!” cried Sol, distractedly. “Let me out!”