“That’s a pity,” returned Sam. “She knows all about you, I can tell you, and she have it settled in her own mind to consult our guv’nor to-morrow, without you come to some amicable arrangement first. ‘Money or Matrimony,’ says she.”
“Matrimony?” ejaculated Willcocks, his jaw dropping.
“Ye-es, matrimony,” repeated Sam, darting a sidelong glance at his victim, and meditatively scratching his jaw. “I rather think the lady’s fancy is set that way. You should ha’ seen her smile when we talked on it.”
“What in the name of fortun’ am I to do?” inquired the yeoman, with a helpless glance; a mouse might as profitably have appealed to the cat in whose claws it found itself.
“The folks are comin’ out o’ church now,” cried Cross eagerly. “Just you step in under this here archway, Trooper, an’ look out cautious, but keep out o’ sight yourself. I shouldn’t wonder if Miss Clarke was here—I’ll p’int her out to you.”
The distracted yeoman obeyed, and presently a stream of people issued from the porch on the opposite side of the road, breaking up for the most part into little knots of twos and threes, though a few figures made their way homewards unescorted. While anxiously on the look out for the mysterious damsel of the Roebuck, Trooper Willcocks witnessed one or two little episodes which filled him with rage and mortification. Pretty Chrissy Baverstock, for instance, after loitering on the steps for quite five minutes, craning a slender neck and tossing her fair curls, was accosted by a bluff-looking labouring fellow, Jim Hardy in fact, who, after a few minutes’ parley, drew her arm through his, and walked away with her. Rosy-cheeked Mary Miles went through the same preliminary period of waiting and head-tossing, but departed alone, her handkerchief to her eyes. The over-soft heart of Trooper Willcocks was wrung within him at the sight.
But now Samuel Cross recalled his wandering attention by an admonitory dig: “That’s her,” he murmured.
Willcocks peered cautiously out and presently drew his head inwards with a jerk, his face as white as ashes.
“That one,” he gasped. “That old, skinny, squinting—good Lord, surely I never said anything in the way o’ sweetheartin’ to her.”
“You only axed her to marry you—before witnesses,” returned the implacable Samuel. “There’s no way out of it, man. She’ll have the law on you without you lead her to the altar.”