"Married!" she repeated, glancing up very quickly, "Adam—what do you mean?"
"Why you must know," began Adam, wringing at his hat again, "ever since the day I found him asleep in your hay, Miss Anthea, mam, Mr. Belloo has been very kind, and—friendly like. Mr. Belloo an' me 'ave smoked a good many sociable pipes together, an' when men smoke together, Miss Anthea, they likewise talk together."
"Yes?—Well?" said Anthea, rather breathlessly, and taking up a pencil that happened to be lying near to hand.
"And Mr. Belloo," continued Adam, heavily, "Mr. Belloo has done me—the—the honour," here Adam paused to give an extra twist to his hat,—"the—honour, Miss Anthea—"
"Yes, Adam."
"Of confiding to me 'is 'opes—" said Adam slowly, finding it much harder to frame his well-meaning falsehood than he had supposed, "his—H-O-P-E-S—'opes, Miss Anthea, of settling down very soon, an' of marryin' a fine young lady as 'e 'as 'ad 'is eye on a goodish time,—'aving knowed her from childhood's hour, Miss Anthea, and as lives up to Lonnon—"
"Yes—Adam!"
"Consequently—'e bought all your furnitur' to set up 'ousekeepin', don't ye see."
"Yes,—I see, Adam!" Her voice was low, soft and gentle as ever, but the pencil was tracing meaningless scrawls in her shaking fingers.
"So you don't 'ave to be no-wise back-ard about keepin' the money, Miss
Anthea."