Fanny stood staring mutely with her lips apart at the old gardener, who went on deliberately snapping out the shoots, and staring up at the roof with his head amongst the vines. One moment her eyes flashed; the next they softened and the tears brimmed in them. She made a movement towards the old man where he sat perched upon his steps calmly ruminating with his mouth full of acid shoots; then, in a fit of indignation, she shrank back, but ended by going close up to him and laying her hand upon his arm. "Leave that now," she said. "Nay, nay, my lass; I've no time to spare. Here's all these shoots running away with the jushe and strength as ought to go into the grapes; and the master never touches them now. It all falls upon my shoulders since he's ill." "Yes, yes; you work very hard; but I want to talk to you a minute." "Well; there then," he said. "Now, what is it?" and he left off his task to select a nice fresh tendril to munch. "You--you won't tell Brother William." "Ay, but I shall, lass. Why, what do it matter to you, if it was all a lie and you warn't there?" "But William will think it was me, Mr Monnick; and he is _so_ particular; and--There, I'll confess it, was me." "Thankye," said the old man, with a grim smile; "but my eyes are not had enough to make a mistake." "But you won't tell William?" "It aren't pleasant for you, my dear; but you'll thank me for it some day." "But it would make such trouble. William would come over and see Mr Prayle; and you know how violent my brother can be. There's plenty of trouble in the house without that." "I don't know as William Cressy would be violent, my dear. He's a very fine young fellow, and as good a judge o' gardening as he be of his farm. He be very proud of his sister: and he said to me one day--" "William said--to you?" "Yes, my dear, to me, over a quiet pipe, as he had along o' me one evening in my tool-house. `John Monnick,' he says, `our Fanny's as pretty a little lass as ever stepped, and some day she'll be having a chap.'" "Having a chip!" said Fanny, with her lip curling in disgust. "`And that's all right and proper, if he's a good sort; but I'm not going to have her take up with anybody, and I'm not going to have her fooled.'" "I wish William would mind his own business," cried Fanny, stamping her foot. "He's got a deal to talk about; coming and staring at a stupid housemaid." "Martha Betts aren't stupid, my dear, and a housemaid's is a very honourable situation. The first woman as ever lived in a house must have been a housemaid, just the same as the first man was a gardener. Don't you sneer at lowly occupations. Everything as is honest is good." "Oh, yes, of course. But you won't tell William?" "I feel, my dear, as if I must," said the old man, taking the girl's hand, and patting it softly. "You're a very pretty little lass, and it's quite right that you should have a sweetheart." "Sweetheart, indeed!" cried Fanny in disgust,