et. An early hour had been named; but hours may be
mistaken, and Ruby had thought that a fine gentleman, such as was her
lover, used to live among fine people up in London, might well mistake
the afternoon for the morning. If he would come at all she could
easily forgive such a mistake. But he did not come, and late in the
afternoon she was obliged to obey her grandfather's summons as he
called her into the house.

After that for three weeks she heard nothing of her London lover, but
she was always thinking of him;--and though she could not altogether
avoid her country lover, she was in his company as little as possible.
One afternoon her grandfather returned from Bungay and told her that
her country lover was coming to see her. 'John Crumb be a coming over
by-and-by,' said the old man. 'See and have a bit o' supper ready for
him.'

'John Crumb coming here, grandfather? He's welcome to stay away then,
for me.'

'That be dommed.' The old man thrust his old hat on to his head and
seated himself in a wooden arm-chair that stood by the kitchen-fire.
Whenever he was angry he put on his hat, and the custom was well
understood by Ruby. 'Why not welcome, and he all one as your husband?
Look ye here, Ruby, I'm going to have an eend o' this. John Crumb is
to marry you next month, and the banns is to be said.'

'The parson may say what he pleases, grandfather. I can't stop his
saying of 'em. It isn't likely I shall try, neither. But no parson
among 'em all can marry me without I'm willing.'

'And why should you no be willing, you contrairy young jade, you?'

'You've been a'drinking, grandfather.'

He turned round at her sharp, and threw his old hat at her head;--
nothing to Ruby's consternation, as it was a practice to which she
was well accustomed. She picked it up, and returned it to him with a
cool indifference which was intended to exasperate him. 'Look ye here,
Ruby,' he said, 'out o' this place you go. If you go as John Crumb's
wife you'll go with five hun'erd pound, and we'll have a dinner here,
and a dance, and all Bungay.'

'Who cares for all Bungay,--a set of beery chaps as knows nothing but
swilling and smoking;--and John Crumb the main of 'em all? There never
was a chap for beer like John Crumb.'

'Never saw him the worse o' liquor in all my life.' And the old
farmer, as he gave this grand assurance, rattled his fist down upon
the table.

'It ony just makes him stoopider and stoopider the more he swills. Y