Sir Felix Carbury made an appointment for meeting Ruby Ruggles a second time at the bottom of the kitchen-garden belonging to Sheep’s Acre farm, which appointment he neglected, and had, indeed, made without any intention of keeping it. But Ruby was there, and remained hanging about among the cabbages till her grandfather returned from Harlestone market. 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.

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