“Do you remember the promise you made to the lion-hearted young man, your brother?”

“Do you ask that to affront me?”

“You never visit her; and others are not so neglectful.”

“Who?”

“Go this evening and you will see.”

“Yes, I will go, and I will soon see if there is anything in it,” said William, not stopping even to inquire why the old Jew took all this interest in the affair.

That evening, as Meadows was in the middle of a description of the town of Sydney, Susan started up.  “Why, here is William Fielding!” and she ran out and welcomed him in with much cordiality, perhaps with some excess of cordiality.

William came in and saluted the farmer and Meadows in his dogged way.  Meadows was not best pleased, but kept his temper admirably, and, leaving Australia, engaged both the farmers in a conversation on home topics.  Susan looked disappointed.  Meadows was content with that, and the party separated half an hour sooner than usual.

The next market evening in strolls William.  Meadows again plays the same game.  This time Susan could hardly restrain her temper.  She did not want to hear about the Grassmere acres, and “The Grove,” and oxen and hogs, but about something that mattered to George.

But when the next market evening William arrived before Mr. Meadows, she was downright provoked and gave him short answers, which raised his suspicions and made him think he had done wisely in coming.  This evening Susan excused herself and went to bed early.

She was in Farnborough the next market-day, and William met her and said: 

“I’ll take a cup of tea with you to-night, Susan, if you are agreeable.”

“William,” said Susan sharply, “what makes you always come to us on market-day?”

“I don’t know.  What makes Mr. Meadows come that day?”

“Because he passes our house to go to his own, I suppose; but you live but two miles off; you can come any day that you are minded.”

“Should I be welcome, Susan?”

“What do you think, Will?  Speak your mind; I don’t understand you.”

“Seems to me I was not very welcome last time.”

“If I thought that I wouldn’t come again,” replied Susan, as sharp as a needle.  Then instantly repenting a little, she explained:  “You are welcome to me, Will, and you know that as well as I do, but I want you to come some other evening, if it is all the same to you.”

“Why?”

“Why? because I am dull other evenings, and it would be nice to have a chat with you.”

“Would it, Susan?”

“Of course it would; but that evening I have company—­and he talks to me of Australia.”

“Nothing else?” sneered the unlucky William.

Susan gave him such a look.

“And that interests me more than anything you can say to me—­if you won’t be offended,” snapped Susan.

William bit his lip.