“Oh, bother the servant; I am my own servant—if you will lend me a pin or two.”
Lucy drew six pins out from different parts of her dress. Eve noticed this, but said nothing. She pinned up her apron so as to make an enormous pocket, and went gayly off with the “spoils of time.”
CHAPTER VII.
“Is that what you call being calm, David? Let me alone—don't slobber me. I am sure I wish she had said, 'No.' If I had thought she would come I would never have asked her.”
“You would, Eve; you would, for love of me.”
“Who knows? Perhaps I might. I am more indulgent than kind.”
“Eve, do tell me all. Is she well? does she come of her own good will? Dear Eve!”
“Well, I'll tell you: first we had a bit of a talk for a blind like; and her uncle is away; so then I asked her plump to come to tea. Well, David, first she looked 'No'—only for a single moment, though; she soon altered her mind, and so then, the moment it was to be 'Yes,' she cleared up, and you would have thought she had been asked to the king's banquet. Ah! David, my lad, you have fallen into good hands—you have launched your heart on a deeper ocean than ever your ship sailed on.”
David took no notice. He was in a state of exaltation for one thing, and, besides, Eve's simile was sent to the wrong address; we terrestrials fear water in proportion to its depth, but these mariners dread their native element only when it is shallow.