"Ther' was no Penninton ever born that's a match for a Trezidder," chuckled Betsey. "Tell me!" "Th' baans (banns) 'll be cried in the church next Sunday," said Betsey. "Whose?" I cried. "Neck Trezidder's an' the young laady called Penryn," laughed the old dame. "How do you know?" I asked, feeling my knees tremble and my heart grow cold. "It doan't need a white witch to know that," cried Betsey. "'Tes in everybody's mouth. Ef you stayed a month longer, they'd 'a bin married by now." I did not stop to consider how Betsey knew of my love for Naomi Penryn. It was evident she did know as she seemed to know everything else. Besides, I was in a state of torment at the news she had told me. "Have the banns been called in church?" I asked. "Iss," cried Betsey. "No," said Eli; "I went ther' laast Zunday to heer fur myzelf, but the passon ded'n zay nothin' 'bout et." "Aw," grunted Betsey, angry that she had been discovered to have made a mistake, yet looking lovingly toward her son. "Then they'll be cried nex' Zunday." "No they won't," I cried. "Tell 'ee ther's no chance fur 'ee, Jasper. Ther'v bin oal soarts ov taales 'bout you. She's awful vexed now that she saaved 'ee from 'angin'." By this time I had somewhat mastered my excitement, and I knew that the best way to learn all Betsey knew was to be silent. "'Tes like this," said Betsey. "Tryphena, Penninton's cook, 'ev got the sack for laivin' you git into the kitchin." "And what's become of her?" "She's livin' in Fammuth. Where she do git 'er money I dunnaw. I aan't a took the trouble to vind out. As fur the purty maid she've 'ad a offul life. And she've promised to marry young Maaster Nick. Es fur you, Jasper, my deear, why Israel Barnicoat, who do live ovver to Kynance, do zay that 'ee zeed you in Plemmouth weth a maid thet you wos a-goin' to marry. Others 'ave zeed 'ee, too. Anyhow, the purty maid es a-goin' to marry Nick." I tried to understand what this meant. And in spite of everything my heart grew light. Why should Israel Barnicoat concoct a story about my being married in Plymouth, and tell it at Pennington? Why should the story be used as a reason why Naomi should marry Nick? "It shall never be," I cried, gladly. "We sh'll zee," grunted Betsey, "we sh'll zee this very minnit. Ould Betsey 'll tell 'ee yer fortin, Jasper Penninton, and Eli sh'll git the broth. Ther, Eli, my deear, taake out the brandis." Now a brandis, as all Cornish folk know, is a three-legged stand made of iron. It is generally placed on the ground over a fire, and supports crocks, frying-pans, boilers, or anything that may be used. Eli put this brandis in the middle of the kitchen on the stone floor. "Now bring the crock," crooned Betsey, and Eli brought the crock and placed it on the brandis. "Put in the broth," commanded Betsey, and Eli obeyed her. I thought he grew smaller and uglier as he did her bidding, while his eyes grew larger and shone with a more unearthly light than ever.