men to be
comin' after 'er; and come after 'er they did, and more than one and
more than two, but there was only one as she ever give so much as a
kind look to, and that was Bill Jarvis, the blacksmith's son at
Farleigh. Whenever our barge was lyin' in the river of a Sunday, he
would walk down in 'is best in the afternoon to pass the time of day
with us, and presently it got to our Mary walking out with 'im
regular.

'Blest if it ain't going to be "William and Mary" after all,' says
my old man.

'He was pleased, I could see, for Bill Jarvis, he'd been put to his
father's trade, and 'e might look to come into his father's business
in good time, and barrin' a bit of poaching, which is neither here
nor there, in my opinion there wasn't a word to be said against 'im.

And so things went along, and they was all jolly except me, but I
had it tugging at my heart day and night, that the little gell as
'ad been my very own these seventeen years wouldn't be mine no
longer soon, and, God forgive me, I hated Bill Jarvis, and I
wouldn't 'ave been sorry if I'd 'eard as 'arm 'ad come to him.

The wedding was fixed for the Saturday; we was to 'ave a nice little
spread at the Rose and Crown, and the young folks was to go 'ome and
stay at old Jarvis's at Farleigh, and I was to lose my Pretty. And
on the Friday night, my old man, 'e went up to the Rose and Crown to
see about things and to get a drink along of 'is mates, and when 'e
come back I looked to see 'im a little bit on maybe, as was only
natural, the night before the weddin' and all. But 'e come back
early, and 'e come back sober, but with a face as white as my apron.

'Bess,' says 'e to me, 'where's the girl?'

'She's in 'er bunk asleep,' says I, 'lookin' as pretty as a picture.
She's been out with 'er sweet'eart,' says I. 'O Tom, this is the
last night she'll lay in that little bunk as she's laid in every
night of 'er life, except that wicked fortnight we sent 'er to
school.'

'Look 'ere,' says 'e, speaking in a whisper, 'I've 'eard summat up
at the Rose and Crown: Bank's broke, and all our money's gone. I see
it in the paper, so it must be true.'

'You don't mean it, Tom,' says I; 'it can't be true.'

''Tis true, though, by God,' says 'e, ''ere, don't take on so, old
girl,' for I'd begun to cry. 'More's been lost on market-days, as
they say: our little girl's well provided for, for old Jarvis, 'e's
a warm man.'

'She won't 'ave a day's peace all 'er life,' says I,