“Maybe it would,” said Miss Vacher dubiously, though with a latent gleam of malice in her eye.

“Take my advise an’ do it then,” urged Mrs. Tuffin earnestly.  “Make the best of a bad job an’ turn the tables on she.  All the village ’ull be mad wi’ her—­the tale ’ull be in every one’s mouth.”

Miss Vacher compressed her lips and meditatively rubbed her hands.

“Well, I will; but I’ll tell ‘ee summat—­I’ll cut off every inch o’ that red border.”

She picked up the rug as she spoke and held it out.  “That’ll spile the looks of it anyhow,” she remarked triumphantly.

The threat was carried into effect, and on the morrow poor Abel Guppy’s little household gods were duly transferred to the home of his former sweetheart.  Jenny professed great indifference to Susan’s scornful message, and continued to hold her head high in spite of the storm of indignation provoked by her conduct.  She claimed and carried off the departed yeoman’s Savings Bank book, and was much aggrieved on finding that the authorities would not at once permit her to avail herself of the little vested fund; inquiries must be made, they said, and in any case some time must elapse before she could be permitted to draw the money out.

This was the only real cloud on Jenny’s horizon, however, and she speedily forgot it in the midst of her wedding preparations.  She and her Sam had made up their little difference, and as he was well-to-do in the world, and quite able to support a wife, there seemed to be no reason for delay.

The banns were duly called, therefore, and on one sunshiny summer’s day Jenny and Sam, followed by a little band of near relatives, walked gleefully to their new home from the church where they had been made one.  Betty Tuffin, who, as a lone woman, could not in justice to herself refuse any paying job, however little she might approve of her employer, had been left to take care of the house and to assist in preparing the refreshments, As the little party approached the cottage door they were surprised to see her standing on the threshold, now portentously wagging her black-capped head, now burying her face in her apron, evidently a prey to strong emotion, though of what particular kind it was difficult to say.

The bride hastened her steps, and Betty, who had for the twentieth time taken refuge in her apron, cautiously uncovered what seemed to be a very watery eye, and remarked in muffled and quavering tones from behind its enveloping folds—­

“I’m afeared you’ll be a bit took a-back when ye go indoor, my dear; best go cautious.  I d’ ‘low ye’ll be surprised!’

“What d’ye mean?” cried Jenny in alarm.  “What’s the matter?”

“Anything wrong?” inquired Sam from the rear.

But Betty was apparently entirely overcome, and could only intimate by repeated jerking of her thumb over her shoulder her desire that they should go in and see for themselves.