for when he hinted that Warner would be losing his wonderful daughter some
time, the farmer told him that was the very last thing on earth could ever
happen.

"Never," said John Warner. "The likes of her be her father's child to her
boots. I'm her life, Ball, and there's no thought of marriage in her, nor
never will be so long as I'm above-ground. She ain't that sort anyhow, and
I'm glad of it."

He wanted it both ways, you see. In his grand powers of selfishness, John
had planned to have Nelly for wife by now, and he'd also planned to keep
his daughter, well knowing that no wife would do a quarter of what Jane
did, or be so valuable on a business basis. Jane for business and Nelly
Bascombe for pleasure was his idea.

And then John offered for Mrs. Bascombe, after making it clear to her that
he was going to do so and finding the running good. He put it in his
masterly language and said that he'd be her willing slave, and hinted how,
when he was gathered home, the farm would be her own for life and so on;
and while knowing very well that John weren't going to be her slave or
nothing like that, Mrs. Bascombe reckoned the adventure about worth while,
having took a fancy to him and longing most furious to escape the
shop-of-all-sorts. And so she said "Yes," though hiding a doubt all the
time, and Warner, who hated to have any trouble hanging over him, swore he
was a blessed and a fortunate man, kissed her on the lips, and went home
instanter to tell Jane the news. He broke it when supper was done and they
sat alone--her darning and him mixing his 'nightcap,' which was a drop of
Hollands, a lump of sugar and a squeeze of lemon in hot water.

"I've got glad news for you, Jane," he said. "Long I've felt 'twas a