The dispute ended thus, and it was agreed that he was to pay in two instalments,—six bushels on the morrow, and the others on St. Remy’s day, then near.
All this was arranged by the wife, who then said to her husband.
“You are satisfied, are you not, to receive your wheat in the manner I have said?”
“Certainly,” he replied.
“Then go,” she said, “whilst he finishes the work he had begun when you interrupted him; otherwise the contract will not be binding.”
“By St. John! is it so?” said the lover.
“I always keep my word,” said the good merchant. “By God, no man shall say I am a cheat or a liar. You will finish the job you have begun, and I am to have my twelve bushels of wheat on the terms agreed. That was our contract—was it not?”
“Yes, truly,” said his wife.
“Good bye, then,” said the husband, “but at any rate be sure that I have six bushels of wheat to-morrow.”
“Don’t be afraid,” said the other. “I will keep my word.” So the good
man left the house, quite joyful that he was to have twelve bushels of
wheat, and his wife and her lover recommenced more heartily than ever. I
have heard that the wheat was duly delivered on the dates agreed.