"No, you don't!" he cried. "I'll dance with you and put the chair at the piano, but I'll dance with no chair."
Annette sank, laughing and exhausted, upon the sofa and looked up at him hopelessly. Her hair had tumbled down, making her look more like a child than ever.
"You are so b-big," she said; "and you've got so m-many feet!"
"The more of me to love ye."
"I wonder if you d-do?" She put her chin on her palms, looking at him sidewise.
"Don't ye do that again!" he cried. "Haven't I passed ye the warning never to
look at me when you fix your mouth like that?"
She tried to call him a goose, though she knew that g's were fatal.
A moment later she sat at one end of the sofa in pretended dudgeon, while Sandy tried to make his peace from the other.
"May the lightning strike me dead if I ever do it again without the asking! I'll be good now—honest to goodness, Nettie. I'll shut me eyes when you take the hurdles, and be blind to temptation. Won't ye be putting me on about the hop now, and what I must do?"