ached the shop that the Squire had had a fall. Tidings as to
troubles in the hunting-field were quick in reaching Mr. Neefit's
shop;--but there had been no idea that the accident would prove to
be fatal. Neefit, when he went home that night, told his wife and
daughter. "That will be the last of young Newton," said Mrs. Neefit.
"I'm d---- if it will!" said the breeches-maker. Polly maintained a
discreet silence as to the heir, merely remarking that it was very
sad for the old gentleman. Polly at that time was very full of
admiration for Moggs,--in regard, that is, to the political character
of her lover. Moggs had lost his election, but was about to petition.

Neefit was never called upon, in the way of his own trade, to make
funereal garments. Men, when they are bereaved of their friends, do
not ride in black breeches. But he had all a tailor's respect for a
customer with a dead relation. He felt that it would not become him
to make an application to the young Squire on a subject connected
with marriage, till the tombstone over the old Squire should have
been properly adjusted. He was a patient man, and could wait. And
he was a man not good at writing letters. His customer and future
son-in-law would turn up soon; or else, the expectant father-in-law
might drop down upon him at the Moonbeam or elsewhere. As for a final
escape, Polly Neefit's father hardly feared that any such attempt
would be made. The young man had acted on the square, and had made
his offer in good faith.

Such was Mr. Neefit's state of mind when he received the young
Squire's letter. The letter almost knocked him down. There was a
decision about it, a confidence that all was over between them except
the necessary payment of the money, an absence of all doubt as to
"Miss Polly," which he could not endure. And then that order for
more breeches, included in the very same paragraph with Polly,
was most injurious. It must be owned that the letter was a cruel,
heart-rending, bad letter. For an hour or so it nearly broke Mr.
Neefit's heart. But he resolved that he was not going to be done.
The young Squire should marry his daughter, or the whole transaction
should be published to the world. He would do such things and say
such things that the young Squire should certainly not have a good
time of it. He said not a word to Polly of the letter that night, but
he did speak of the young Squire. "When that young man comes again,
Miss Polly," he said, "I shall e