“You ha’ heard,” said Lynn, who noticed these quick changes in the young costermonger’s face with a sort of grim satisfaction; “you ha’ heard, in course, that I’m a-gwine to wed that pretty little flower gel, Jill Robinson, this arternoon.”
“It’s true, I ha’ heard,” replied Nat; “I don’t want to speak on it, Silas Lynn. I’m werry busy just now a-packing my barrer, and as you and me can’t have naught in common, I’ll be wishing yer a good morning.”
“But we can have a deal in common, lad,” exclaimed Silas; “why, what a chicken ’eart you has, turning faint when a gel’s name is spoke!”
“Ef you say that again I’ll knock yer down,” said Nat.
“Oh, tut, tut, ain’t I twice yer age nearly, and a good bit more than twice yer strength? Look yere, Nat Carter, I want to talk this matter over with you. I ha’ heard something ’bout you and Jill what must be cleared up afore I take her afore the parson. I want to do wot’s right and jest by that yere gel. Your ’appiness ain’t nothing to me, Nat Carter; and my own ’appiness! well, the Lord knows as that ain’t worth considerin’ either. But Jill’s ’appiness, that’s everything. You and me ’as got to argufy that pint out werry clear, young man.”
Nat did not reply for a moment or two, then he said in a slow voice:
“I had made a vow in my heart that I’d never speak the name o’ that young gel, Jill Robinson, again,” he murmured. “I heard as she were about to be spliced up with you, Mr Lynn, and I said to myself I ’opes as I’ll never meet that old man, Silas Lynn, or maybe I’ll be doin’ him a mischief. I don’t want to meet yer, or to speak with yer, nor to hear anything more ’bout Jill. It’s quite true as I dreamt a dream that there wor a gel o’ that name, what could be all the world to me. I woke one arternoon and there worn’t no sech Jill nowhere on God’s wide earth. I don’t want to speak to you about the gel you’re gwine to marry, Mr Lynn.”
“Not ef I tell yer somethink that’ll prove to yer as the Jill you dreamt on is still living on this earth, sweeter and brighter nor the best and the purtiest sweet spring flower; ef I proves that to yer, will yer come along and talk with me, Nat Carter?” A queer, convulsive change came over Nat’s face when Silas said these words. He hesitated for a moment.
“I—I’ll come,” he said then. “I didn’t think as I could be such a weak fool, but somehow I don’t know myself lately.”