"If you'll pull up I'll get out and walk," she answered. "I shall be glad to do so. The dew falls like rain, and I am chilled to the marrow."
"Right then," assented the Broom-Squire, and drew the rein.
Mehetabel descended from her seat in the cart. In so doing something fell on the road from her bosom. She stooped and picked it up.
"Wots that?" asked Jonas, and pointed to the article with his whip, that was flourished with a favor of white ribbons.
"It is a present father has made me," answered Mehetabel. "I was in a hurry—and not accustomed to pockets, so I just put it into my bosom. I ought to have set it in a safer place, in the new pocket made to my gown. I'll do that now. Its money."
"Money!" repeated Bideabout. "How much may it be?"
"I have not looked."
"Then look at it, once now (at once)."
He switched the whip with its white favor about, but kept his eye on Mehetabel.
"What did he give it you for?"