walked homewards.

Little Molton is a small town and news travels fast, but it did not
travel faster than Mr. Smithson as soon as he had heard it. He burst
into Mr. Clarkson's room like the proverbial hurricane, and, gasping for
breath, leaned against the table and pointed at him an incriminating
finger.

"You you've been running," said Mr. Clarkson, uneasily.

"What--what--what do you--mean by it?" gasped Mr. Smithson. "After all
my trouble. After our--bargain."

"I altered my mind," said Mr. Clarkson, with dignity.

"Pah!" said the other.

"Just in time," said Mr. Clarkson, speaking rapidly. "Another day and I
believe I should ha' been too late. It took me pretty near an hour to
talk her over. Said I'd been neglecting her, and all that sort of thing;
said that she was beginning to think I didn't want her. As hard a job as
ever I had in my life."

"But you didn't want her," said the amazed Mr. Smithson. "You told me
so."

"You misunderstood me," said Mr. Clarkson, coughing. "You jump at
conclusions."

Mr. Smithson sat staring at him. "I heard," he said at last, with an