"She ain't that;—she ain't that," said John. "She ain't that at all. She's no slut. I won't hear her called so;—not by her grandfather. But, oh, she has a mind to put me so abouts, that I'll have to go home and hang myself."
"Dash it, Miss Ruby, you ain't a going to serve a young man that way," said the baker.
"If you'll jist keep yourself to yourself, I'll be obliged to you, Mr. Mixet," said Ruby. "If you hadn't come here at all things might have been different."
"Hark at that now," said John, looking at his friend almost with indignation.
Mr. Mixet, who was fully aware of his rare eloquence and of the absolute necessity there had been for its exercise if any arrangement were to be made at all, could not trust himself to words after this. He put on his hat and walked out through the back kitchen into the yard declaring that his friend would find him there, round by the pig-stye wall, whenever he was ready to return to Bungay. As soon as Mixet was gone John looked at his sweetheart out of the corners of his eyes and made a slow motion towards her, putting out his right hand as a feeler. "He's aff now, Ruby," said John.
"And you'd better be aff after him," said the cruel girl.
"And when'll I come back again?"
"Never. It ain't no use. What's the good of more words, Mr. Crumb?"
"Domm her; domm her," said old Ruggles. "I'll even it to her. She'll have to be out on the roads this night."
"She shall have the best bed in my house if she'll come for it," said John, "and the old woman to look arter her; and I won't come nigh her till she sends for me."