“Why, Reicht, you have not ever been so simple as to cast an eye of affection on the boy, that you take his part?”
“Me?” said Reicht, with a toss of the head.
“Oh, I ask your pardon. Well, then, you can do me a good turn.”
“Whisht! whisper! that little darling is listening to every word, and eyes like saucers.”
On this both their heads would have gone under one cap.
Two women plotting against one boy? Oh, you great cowardly serpents!
But when these stolen meetings had gone on for about five days Margaret began to feel the injustice of it, and to be irritated as well as unhappy.
And she was crying about it when a cart came to her door, and in it, clean as a new penny, his beard close shaved, his hands white as snow, and a little colour in his pale face, sat the Vicar of Gouda in the grey frock and large felt hat she had sent him.
She ran upstairs directly, and washed away all traces of her tears, and put on a cap, which being just taken out of the drawer was cleaner, theoretically, than the one she had on, and came down to him.
He seized both her hands and kissed them, and a tear fell upon them. She turned her head away at that to hide her own which started.