"I'd like to give it to you, Bet," he said, "ef I knew how I come by
it. It were lying on the floor, and the clasps shone when I held up
the candle. I must ask Mrs. Jobling, my landlady, if she knows who it
belongs to. It ain't likely as she'd own such a bonny bit o' a thing;"
he fingered the purse admiringly, and then thrust it into one of his
deep pockets.
"I'll give it to you if I can't find the owner, Bet," he said in
conclusion. "I don't suppose you ever had anything so bonny."
Bet, however, was far too impatient and excited to be interested in
the most beautiful purse that was ever made.
"Let it be now, Will," she said. "Most like it belongs to Mrs.
Jobling--don't let's think of it now. Have you got the money in your
pocket, Will, dear? And shall we go at once and find the parson?"
A flush came up into Will's bronzed cheeks.
"None so fast, sweetheart," he said. "What would you say to us going
to be married and having never a ring to put on that finger o' yourn?
I han't bought the ring yet--the wedding-ring, darling; but I ha' got
money to buy it--ten pound; it does seem a sight of riches.
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