"R-run away with thee, little rebel!" said Crashaw, not unkindly, but much as he would have spoken to a little dog that was troublesome.
And Merrylips' own brother Munn, that was so good to her, said carelessly:—
"If you'll believe these folk, every cow in the herd is the only maintenance of seven souls at least."
The little girl turned away, with her grimy apron twisted tight in her hands, and so sorry for her did Merrylips feel that she started after her.
"Little maid!" she said, and fumbled in her pocket.
In that pocket, when she had changed into Herbert's clothes, she had remembered to put her own whittle and three half-pence that Mr. Lowry had given her. She pulled out the half-pence now, and said she:—
"Prithee, take these, and I would they were more, and I be main sorry for thy cush-cow."
But the little girl with the tawny hair turned upon her like a little fury.
"I do hate thee for one of 'em!" she cried. "I'd fain see thee dead, thou wicked boy!"
As she spoke, smack! she struck Merrylips a sounding blow right across the face.