“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.’”