“If you like.”
“Because I love you, and none other but you. I aint rich, that you know, but I’ve saved a bit of money, for I haven’t bin like a good many others on the farm, a spending what I earn afore I earned it.”
“I know you have been careful and frugal,” she answered.
“Well, I aint afraid of work—that you know also.”
“I do.”
“An’ if so be as you consent to be my wife, which I hope and believe you will, I shall work wi’ greater energy, for I shall ha’ something to work for. A man ain’t a mite o’ yoose in this world if he be all alone, as I ha’ bin all these lonely years, and I want ee for a partner, and if I canna ha’ ee, then there be no other woman as I care about having. Answer me! Dang it all, say yes or no Kitty, without further ado.”
“Hark ee, Joe Doughty,” said the woman, with a boldness and energy that fairly astonished him.
“I be not fit for an honest man. I tell ee plainly that, years agone, when you were away from Stoke Ferry, summut happened as will for ever prevent me from becoming your wife.”
“It won’t do, Kitty; you must find some better excuse than that,” said he, placing his hands upon her shoulder. “It wunno do, lass.”
“Wunno do!” she ejaculated, in unfeigned surprise. “May be ee don’t understand me rightly. I tell ee agen and agen—I ain’t fit to be the wife of an honest man.”