“What do you suppose Tucker cost father?” asked Pooke, clumsily endeavouring to change the topic.
“I really don’t know.”
“Eight pounds, and he is worth twenty. That was a piece of luck for father.”
“Luck comes to those who desarve it,” said Rose. “I am not surprised at you and your family being prosperous in all you undertake. There’s no knowing, Jan,”’she spoke solemnly,’“you may feel low and discouraged at being, so to speak, kicked over the orchard hedge by Kate, but it may be a blessing in disguise, who can tell? but Providence may have in view someone for you much better suited’much in every way, than Kitty.”
“Drat it! there is that fly again.”
“Mr. Puddicombe’what a good soul he is!’has been about the place spreading the news.”
“What news?”
“About Kitty and the schoolmaster.”
“Kitty and the schoolmaster?” echoed Pooke. His brows went up, his jaw dropped, and his cheek became mottled.
“Haven’t you heard? Why, poor dear Jan, she went helter-skelter away from the orchard where she had trampled on you to fling herself into the arms of Mr. Thingamy-jig. I cannot tell his name’I mean the new schoolmaster.”