"Only Tom Tinker, son of Jabez Tinker, of Wilberlee Mill that was and is to be."
Dorothy part withdrew from the bedside and looked long and fixedly on Tom.
"And is that all you have to tell me, Mr. Tom Tinker?"
"No, Dorothy, I have another secret to tell you. But you must come closer, closer still. Dorothy, I love you. I have loved you for years. Will you be my wife?"
Dorothy made answer none. But when Tom drew her face to his she suffered him.
"My darling, oh, my darling! I love you more than life," murmured Tom in her ear.
"And is that what you call telling me a secret? You silly boy, I've known it ever so long."
"And you, Dorothy, how long have you loved me?"
The story I set about to tell is told. Another house stands by Wilberlee Mill; another mill stands upon the ruins of Wilberlee, and Tom Tinker is master of the mill, and nominal master of the house. There is a Young Jabez plays about an old man's knee, and a sweet fair-haired Lucy prattles and babbles on its godmother's knee. Lucy Garside was bridesmaid at Dorothy's wedding, and was sponsor for her daughter at the font. She remained unmarried through her life, and she, too, had a secret; it was one that was never told.
Wilberlee Mill prospered. The hands were paid on the same principles as Tom and Ben had introduced at Co-op. Mill, and prospered with the mill. If Tom was never rich as this world counts riches, he was rich in a wealth above a miser's dream.
"What about the action 'Pinder at the suit of Tinker,'" asked Nehemiah Wimpenny of his client.
"Judgment for the defendant with costs," was the curt reply.
"Happy to draw the marriage settlements," ventured the unabashed attorney.
"Thank you, Edwin Sykes will do that," was the reply.
Wimpenny returned to his siege of the facile heart of the lively Polly, and in time wedded her. But their marriage was not a happy one. Nehemiah's attachment to the bar of the _Rose and Crown_ survived Polly's translation to a loftier sphere of life. He became a confirmed tippler, and his clients left him one after the other. He became in time that most pitiable of objects--a pot-house lawyer, and only escaped the last disgrace of a lawyer's life because no one would trust him with their money.