"How do you know?" I asked.
"'Ow do I knaw!" sneered Betsey. "'Ow do I knaw everything?" and this was the way she always answered when I asked her such a question.
"Where is her home?" I asked.
"Where? Up the country somewhere on the north coast. A big 'ous cloas to the say, my deear."
"But Penryn is close to Falmouth."
"'Nother branch ov the fam'ly, my deear; but ther', she nothin' to you. She's good, she's purty, an' she's rich, but she's for Nick Trezidder. Thews Trezidders do bait the Penningtons, don't 'em?" And Betsey laughed again.
But I held my tongue. I determined that I would not tell the secret of my heart, although Betsey's words hurt me like knife-stabs.
"Well, an' when winter do come, what be 'ee goin' to do then, Jasper, an' 'ow be 'ee goin' to git 'nough to buy back Pennington?"
"I must think, Betsey," I said. "I must think. But I'll do it—I'll do it!"