“That terrible handsome man, as had all the girls by the ears in Postbridge afore he went off?”

“Yes—­only thirty-five—­killed steeple-chasing.  He was a huntsman, you know, and a great breaker of hosses.  And now one’s broke him.  Dead and buried, and nought for me but his watch and chain and a bill from his undertaker.  It happened in Ireland three weeks ago; and I’ve only heard tell to-day; and I thought if Mary Tuckett knowed, ’twould soon have turned her laughter into tears, for she was cruel fond of him, and wept an ocean when he went.  In fact, they was tokened on the quiet unknown to her father, and Nathan hoped to marry her some day and little knew she’d forgot all about her solemn promise.”

“I’m very sorry for you.  I’ll think about this.  It don’t look hopeful, for Peter Hacker’s very hard all through where women are concerned.  There’s no milk of human kindness in him, and he don’t like me.  He thinks—­poor fool—­that I overlooked his prize bullock, that died three days afore ’twas to start to the cattle show.”

“He might be tenderer, for he’s only human, after all,” said Mrs. White.  “He’s courting that very girl that was here a minute agone.  In fact, they be plighted, I believe.  It do make me bitter when I think upon it, for my poor Nathan’s sake.  She had sworn to marry my brother, remember, for Nathan told me so, and, no doubt, he counted upon it to the end of his days.  But out of sight out of mind with her sort.  Peter’s riches have made her forget Nathan’s beautiful face.  And now he’s in his grave.”

“Stop!” says Charity.  “You’m running on too fast.  Let me think a minute.  There’s a lot here wants sifting.  Let’s come to business, my dear, and stick to the point.  You want your cottage and you want Johnny French.  What will you give me if I get your cottage for ’e out of Peter?”

Mrs. White was known to have saved a little bit, or, rather, her late husband had for her.  He was a lot older than her, and had thought the world of her.

“I’ll give ’e a five-pound note,” she said at last.

“And what if I get Johnny French up to the scratch also?”

“If you do one, you’ll do t’other,” said Sarah.  “He depends on the cottage, and won’t take me without it, but be very willing to have both together.  Still, I’ll meet you gladly if there’s anything you can do, and the day I’m wed I’ll give you another five-pound note, Charity.  And well you’ll have earned it, I’m sure.”

“So much for that then.  And now, what like was your brother?  Let’s talk of him,” said Mrs. Badge.  “I’m awful sorry for you—­’tis a great loss and a great shock.  Horsemanship do often end that way.”

Sarah was a thought surprised that t’other should shift the conversation so sudden; but she felt pretty full of her dead brother and was very well content to talk about him.