seems queer enough when a body comes to think of it, but never mind; and
your father's druv you to it; and you were of a cold shiver for fear
she'd take you, and yet you want to let on it a'n't settled betwixt and
between you--oh, you needn't chaw your lips and look yaller about the
jaws, it's the Lord's truth; and now answer me this, _what do you mean?_
and maybe you'll say what right have I got to ask, but never mind, all
the same, if I haven't, Gilbert Potter has, for it's him that Martha
Deane has promised to take for a husband!"

It was a day of surprises for Barton. In his astonishment at the last
announcement, he took refuge from the horror of Miss Lavender's first
revelations. One thing was settled,--all the fruits of his painful and
laborious plotting were scattered to the winds. Denial was of no use,
but neither could an honest explanation, even if he should force himself
to give it, be of any possible service.

"Gilbert," he asked, "is this true?--about _you_, I mean."

"Martha Deane and I are engaged, and were already at the time when you
addressed her," Gilbert answered.

"Good heavens! I hadn't the slightest suspicion of it. Well--I don't
begrudge you your luck, and of course I'll draw back, and never say
another word, now or ever."

"_You_ wouldn't ha' been comfortable with Martha Deane, anyhow," Miss
Lavender grimly remarked. "'T isn't good to hitch a colt-horse and an
old spavined critter in one team. But that's neither here nor there; you
ha'n't told us why you made up to her for a purpose, and kep' on
pretendin' she didn't know her own mind."