I saw then. Roper had nothing but a lodging, not a stick or stone that he could call his own. And the foolish man, instead of saving up out of his wages, spent the remnant in buying pretty things for Grizzel. It was a hopeless case.
“You should never have had anything to say to Roper, knowing this, Grizzel.”
Grizzel twirled the sweet peas round and round in her fingers, and looked foolish, answering nothing.
“Lett has a good home to give you and means to keep it going. He must make a couple of pounds a week. Perhaps more.”
“But then I don’t care for him, Master Johnny.”
“Give him up then. Send him about his business.”
She might have been counting the blossoms on the sweet-pea stalks. Presently she spoke, without looking up.
“You see, Master Johnny, one does not like to—to lose all one’s chances, and grow into an old maid. And, if I can’t have Roper, perhaps—in time—I might bring myself to take Lett. It’s a better opportunity than a poor dairy-maid like me could ever ha’ looked for.”
The cat was out of the bag. Grizzel was keeping Lett on for a remote contingency. When she could make up her mind to say No to Roper, she meant to say Yes to him.