I did not speak.
"No, you caan't tell," said she; "you dunnaw why yerzelf. You've cum 'cause you caan't 'elp et, my deear. Yer 'art kipt achin' and longin' so that you cudden stay away."
I continued silent, for I knew she told the truth.
"But 'tes no use, Jasper, my deear. You aa'nt a got the money to buy back Penninton, and besides the job's done."
"What job's done?" I asked, eagerly.
"Neck Trezidder, and thicky purty maid."
"How? What do you mean? Tell me?" I cried, starting from the seat.
"Ther' was no Penninton ever born that's a match for a Trezidder," chuckled Betsey.
"Tell me!"
"Th' baans (banns) 'll be cried in the church next Sunday," said Betsey.