wed she was penniless, or
he'd not have looked at her twice; and when, after a short, fierce sort
of courting, she took him, everybody felt pleased about it but Farmer
Stonewer, who couldn't abide the thought of losing Hyssop, though his
wife had warned him any time this four year that 'twas bound to happen.

Farmer and the girl were sitting waiting for Jonathan one night; and she
was a bit nervous, and he was trying for to calm her.

"Jonathan must be told," she says. "It can't go on no longer."

"Then tell him," says her uncle. "Good powers!" he says; "to see you,
one would think the news was the worst as could ever fall between a pair
o' poor lovers, instead of the best."

"I know him a lot better than you," she tells Farmer; "and I know how
plaguey difficult he can be where money's the matter. He very near
throwed me over when, in a weak moment, I axed him to let me buy my own
tokening-ring. Red as a turkey's wattles did he flame, and said I'd
insulted him; and now, when he hears the secret, I can't for the life of
me guess how he'll take it."

"'Twas a pity you didn't tell him when he offered for you," declared
Hyssop's aunt. "Proud he is as a silly peacock, and terrible frightened
of seeming to look after money, or even casting his eye where it bides;
but he came to you without any notion of the windfall, and he loved you
for yourself, like an honest man; and you loved him the same way; and
right well you know that if your old cousin had left you five thousand
pound instead of five hundred, Jonathan Drake was the right chap for
you. He can't blame himself, for not a soul on Dartymoor but us three
has ever heard tell about the money."

"But he'll blame me for having money at all," answered the girl. "He
said a dozen times afore he offered for me, that he'd never look at a
woman if she'd got more cash than what he had himself. That's why I
couldn't bring myself to confess to it--and lose him. And, after we was
tokened, it got to be harder still."

"Why not bide till you'm married, then?" asked Mrs. Stonewer. "Since it
have gone so long, let it go longer, and surprise him with the news on
the wedding-night--eh, James?"

"No," answered Farmer. "'Enough is as good as a feast.' 'Tis squandering
blessings to do that at such a time. Keep the news till some rainy day,
when he's wondering how to get round a tight corner. That's the moment
to tell him; and that's the moment he's least likely to make a face at
the ne