id so oft you could do with me that--"

She stopped to let him praise God and bless her and fall on her neck; but,
a good bit to her astonishment, Martin didn't show no joy at all--far from
it. He was silent as the grave, for a minute, and then he only axed a
question that didn't seem to bear much on the subject.

"Your father haven't seen Mrs. Bascombe to-day, then?" he said.

"Not for a week have he seen her, I believe; but he's been a good bit
occupied and worried. He was going to sup with her to-night," answered
Jane. "And that's why for I asked you to meet me, Martin."

"What a world!" mused Mr. Ball; and he bided silent so long that the woman
grew hot.

"You don't appear to have heard me," she told him pretty sharp, and then
he spoke.

"I heard you only too well," he replied. "If my memory serves me, it's
exactly three weeks now since last I offered for you, Jane, and your
answer was a thought frosty. In fact, you dared me to name the subject
again until you might be pleased to."

"Well, and now I do name it," she told him.

"Why, if I may ask?" he said.

'Twas her turn to be silent now. Of course she saw in a moment that things
had gone wrong, and she instantly guessed, knowing her father, that 'twas
he had made up a deep plot against her behind her back and called the man
off her.

So sure felt she that she named it.

"This be father's work," she said. "You've changed your mind, Ball."

"Minds have been changed," he admitted, "and not only mine. But make no
mistake, Jane. This has got nothing whatever to do with your father so far
as I'm concerned. You've been frank, as you always are, and I'll be the
same. And if Mr. Warner be taking a snack with Nelly this evening he'll
make good every word I'm telling you. In fact I dare say what you have now
got to pretend is bad news, Jane, be really very much the opposite.
There's only one person is called to suffer to-night so far as I know, and
that's John Warner. And even he may not suffer so much as he did ought. He
put Mrs. Bascombe afore you, and so you ordained to keep your threat and
leave him. And you come to me to take you and make good your threat."

"You didn't ought to put it like that--it ain't decent," she said. But she
knew, of course, she'd lost the man.

"It don't matter now," he replied, "because human nature overthrows
decency and delights in surprises--decent and otherwise. What has happened
is this. Me and Nelly Bascombe was equally in