ve.

"Well, out with it, then," said Joan, quickly adding, as she jerked her
head in that direction, "us don't have no secrets from she."

"Awh, doant 'ee?" returned Jonathan in a voice which sounded the reverse
of complimentary. "Wa-all, then, there's what 'tis;" and he held toward
her a piece of paper folded up like a letter.

"Who's it from? where did 'ee get un?" asked Joan, while Eve exclaimed,
"Oh, Joan, see is it from them?"

"I can't stay no longer," said Jonathan, preparing to retreat.

"But you must stay till we've made out what this here is," said Joan.

Jonathan shook his head. "'Tain't nothin' to do with what I'm about," he
answered, determined not to be detained, "and I've got to run all the
faster 'cos I've comed round this way to bring it. But Jerrem gived it
to me," he whispered, "and Adam ain't to be tould nothin' of it;" and he
added a few more words which made Joan release her hold of him and seem
as anxious to see him gone as he was to go.

The first part of the whisper had reached Eve's ears, and the hope which
had leaped into her heart had been forced back by the disappointment
that Jerrem, not Adam, had sent the letter. Still, it might contain some
news of their return, and she turned to Joan with a look of impatient
inquiry.

"I wonder whatever 'tis about?" said Joan, claiming the right of
ownership so far as the unfolding the missive went. "Some random talk
or 'nother, I'll be bound," she added, with a keener knowledge of her
correspondent than Eve possessed. "I'll warrant he's a nice handful
aboard there 'mongst 'em all, with nothin' to do but drinkin' and
dice-throwin' from mornin' to night. Awh, laws!" she said, with a sigh
of discontent as the written page lay open before her, "what's the good
o' sendin' a passel o' writin' like that to me? 'T might so well be
double Dutch for aught I can make out o' any o' it. There! take and read
it, do 'ee, Eve, and let's hear what he says--a good deal more 'bout you
than me, I'll lay a wager to."

"Then I don't know why he should," said Eve.

"No, nor I neither," laughed Joan; "but, there! I ain't jealous o' he,
for, as I'm Jerrem's cut-and-come-agen, his makin' up to other maidens
only leaves un more relish for comin' back to the dish he can stick by."

Eve's eyes had by this time run over the carelessly-written, sprawling
page of the letter, and her face flushed up crimson as she said, "I
really do wish Jerrem would give over all this sill