For if Jonas was in no meditative mood, the old horse was, and he halted at intervals to ponder over the load he was drawing, and ask why on this occasion he had to drag uphill two persons instead of one. The sun had set before the couple left the Ship. The road ascended, at first gradually, then at a more rapid incline. The cob could not be induced to trot by word or whip; and the walk of a horse is slower than that of a man. "It's bostall (a steep ascent, in the Wealden dialect) till we come to the gallows," muttered Jonas; "then we have the drove-road down into the Punch-Bowl." Mehetabel tightened her shawl about her shoulders and throat. The evening was chilly for the time of the year. Much rain had fallen, and the air was charged with moisture, that settled in cold dew on the cart, on the harness, on Bideabout's glazed hat, on the bride's clothing, bathing her, all things, as in the tears of silent sorrow. "One of us must get out and walk," said the bridegroom. "Old Clutch--that's the 'oss--is twenty-five, and there's your box and bundle behind." He made no attempt to dismount, but looked sideways at the bride. "If you'll pull up I'll get out and walk," she answered. "I shall be glad to do so. The dew falls like rain, and I am chilled to the marrow." "Right then," assented the Broom-Squire, and drew the rein. Mehetabel descended from her seat in the cart. In so doing something fell on the road from her bosom. She stooped and picked it up. "Wots that?" asked Jonas, and pointed to the article with his whip, that was flourished with a favor of white ribbons. "It is a present father has made me," answered Mehetabel. "I was in a hurry--and not accustomed to pockets, so I just put it into my bosom. I ought to have set it in a safer place, in the new pocket made to my gown. I'll do that now. Its money." "Money!" repeated Bideabout. "How much may it be?" "I have not looked." "Then look at it, once now (at once)." He switched the whip with its white favor about, but kept his eye on Mehetabel. "What did he give it you for?" "As a wedding present." "Gold, is it?" "Gold and notes." "Gold and notes. Hand 'em to me. I can count fast enough." "The sum is fifteen pounds--dear, kind, old man." "Fifteen pounds, is it? You might ha' lost it wi' your carelessness." "I'll not be careless now." "Good, hand it me." "I cannot do that, Jonas. It is mine. Father said to me I was to keep it gainst a rainy day." "Didn't you swear in church to endow me with all your worldly goods?" asked the Broom-Squire. "No, it was you who did that. I then had nothing." "Oh, was it so? I don't remember that. If you'd had them fifteen pounds then, and the passon had knowed about it, he'd ha' made you swear to hand it over to me--your lord and master." "There's nothing about that in the Prayer-book." "Then there ort to be. Hand me the money. You was nigh on losing the lot, and ain't fit to keep it. Fifteen pounds!"