He revised the first lie and rejected it for a more cunning one.
"It was before I met you," he said humbly. "He made the worst of it,
of course, but I had rather you knew the truth. You are angry?"

Hetty sighed. "I am sorry. It seems to make our--our love--
different somehow."

The bargewoman brought out their tea. She had heard nothing of the
scrimmage on the bank, so swiftly had it happened and with so few
words spoken.

"Halloa--is the tinker gone? And I'd cut off a crust for him.
Well, I can eat it myself, I suppose; and after all he was low
company for the likes of you, though any company comes well to folks
that can't pick and choose." In the act of setting herself on the
cabin top she sat up stiffly and listened.

"There's a horse upon the high road," she announced.

"A highwayman, perhaps, if all company's welcome to you."

"He won't come this way," said the woman placidly. "I loves to lie
close to the road like this and see the wagons and coaches rolling by
all day: for 'tis a dull life, always on the water. Now you wouldn't
believe what a pleasure it gives me, to have you two here a-lovering,
nor how many questions I'd put if you'd let me. When is it to be, my
dear?"--addressing Hetty--"But you won't answer me, I know.
You're wishing me farther, and go I will as soon as you've drunk your
tay. Well, sir, I hope you'll take care of her: for the pretty she
is, I could kiss her myself. May I?" she asked suddenly, taking