“You did, George,” said the old farmer.
“Says you, 'Bring back a thousand pounds to show me you are not a fool, and you shall have my daughter,' and she was to have your blessing. Am I right, Mr. Meadows? you were present.”
“Those were the words,” replied Meadows.
“Well! and have you brought back the thousand pounds?”
“I have.”
“John, I must stand to my word; and I will—it is justice. Take the girl, and be as happy as you can with her, and her father in the work-house.”
“I take her, and that is as much as to say that neither her father nor any one she respects shall go to the workhouse. How much is my share, Tom?”
“Four thousand pounds.”
“No, not so much.”
“Yes, it is. Jacky gave you his share of the great nugget, and you gave him sheep in return. Here they are, lads and lasses, seventy of them varying from one five six naught to one six two nine, and all as crimp as a muslin gown new starched. Why? I never put this,” and he took pieces of newspaper out of his pocketbook, and looked stupidly at each as it came out.