“Who knows? maybe in ten minutes you will be altogether as hot.”
She ran into the shop, but speedily returned to the mayor and said, “Good news! He fancies her and more than a little. Now how is't to be? Will you marry your child, or bury her, for there is no third way, for shame and love they do rend her virgin heart to death.”
The dignitary decided for the more cheerful rite, but not without a struggle; and with its marks on his face he accompanied Margaret to his daughter. But as men are seldom in a hurry to drink their wormwood, he stood silent. So Doctor Margaret said cheerfully, “Mistress, your lock is gone; I have sold it.”
“And who was so mad as to buy such a thing?” inquired the young lady scornfully.
“Oh, a black-haired laddie wi' white teeth. They call him Ulrich.”
The pale face reddened directly, brow and all.
“Says he, 'Oh, sweet mistress, give it me.' I had told them all whose 'twas. 'Nay,' said I, 'selling is my livelihood, not giving.' So he offered me this, he offered me that, but nought less would I take than his next quarter's wages.
“Cruel,” murmured the girl, scarce audibly.
“Why, you are in one tale with your father. Says he to me when I told him, 'Oh, an he loves her hair so well, 'tis odd but he loves the rest of her. Well,' quoth he, ''tis an honest lad, and a shall have her, gien she will but leave her sulks and consent.' So, what say ye, mistress, will you be married to Ulrich, or buried i' the kirkyard?”
“Father! father!”