“Oh, you hurt!” With another little laugh she slipped up the garden path and into the house.
Ten minutes later Taffy followed, hating himself.
For the next fortnight he avoided her; and then, late one evening she came again. He was prepared for this, and had locked the door of the smithy and let down the shutter while, he worked. She tapped upon the outside of the shutter with her knuckles.
“Let me in!”
“Can’t you leave me alone?” he answered pettishly. “I want to work, and you interrupt.”
“I don’t want no love-making—I don’t indeed. I’ll sit quiet as a mouse. But I’m afeard, out here.”
“Nonsense!”
“I’m afeard o’ the ghost. There’s something comin’—let me in, co-o!”
Taffy unlocked the door and held it half opened while he listened.
“Yes, there’s somebody coming, on horseback. Now, look here—it’s no ghost, and I can’t have you about here with people passing. I—I don’t want you here at all; so make haste and slip away home, that’s a good girl.”