"No, Miss Anthea," answered Adam, screwing his hat tighter, and tighter.
"Why—what do you mean?"
"I mean—as there never was no lady, Miss Anthea,—neither up to Lonnon, nor nowhere's else, as I ever heard on."
"But—oh Adam!—you—told me—"
"Ah!—for sure I told ye, but it were a lie, Miss Anthea,—leastways, it weren't the truth. Ye see, I were afraid as you'd refuse to take the money for the furnitur' unless I made ye believe as he wanted it uncommon bad. So I up an' told ye as he'd bought it all on account o' him being matrimonially took wi' a young lady up to Lonnon—"
"And then—you went to—him, and warned him—told him of the story you had invented?"
"I did, Miss Anthea; at first, I thought as he were going to up an' give me one for myself, but, arterwards he took it very quiet, an' told me as I'd done quite right, an' agreed to play the game. An' that's all about it, an' glad I am as it be off my mind at last. Ah' now, Miss Anthea mam, seeing you're that rich—wi' Master Georgy's fortun',—why you can pay back for the furnitur'—if so be you're minded to. An' I hope as you agree wi' me as I done it all for the best, Miss Anthea?"
Here, Adam unscrewed his hat, and knocked out the wrinkles against his knee, which done, he glanced at Anthea:
"Why—what is it, Miss Anthea?"
"Nothing, Adam,—I haven't slept well, lately—that's all"