"Oh, nothing at all, please," Pam begged of him, with solicitous large-eyed humility through her thick lashes. "Don't bother to try. It 's not as though I was worth it ... or ... or the only one. You 'll be sure to find plenty of somebody elses ... There are just lots of girls ... older than me too ... who 'd be only too glad to say 'Yes' ... and be better for you in every way."
"Ay, ah know there is," Jevons assented, with refreshing candor. "Lots on 'em. Bud ah mud as lief finish wi' you sin' ah 've gotten started o' ye. T' others 'll 'ave to be looked for, an' ah can't reckon to waste mah time i' lookin' for nawbody. Work gets behint enough as it is. Noo, let 's come tiv a understandin'. 'Ave ye gotten onnything agen me?"
"Oh, no, no," said Pam, all her sympathies in alarm at the mere suggestion, lest it might have been derived from any act or word of hers. "Indeed I have n't."
"Well," said Jevons himself, stroking down the subject complacently. "Nor ah div n't see rightly i' what way ye sewd. Ah 'm a widdiwer—if that 's owt agen a man? Bud if it is, ah s'll want to be telt why. An' ah 've gotten a family—so it 's no use sayin' ah en't. Bud it 'll be a caution if there 's owt agen a man o' that score. There 'll be a deal o' names i' Bible to disqualify for them 'at say there is. An' ah 've gotten seummut ah can lay my 'ands on at bank onnytime it rains—though it 'll 'a to rain strangelins 'ard an' all before ah do. Ah 's think ye weean't say 'at that 's owt agen a man?"
"Not a bit," said Pam conciliatorily. And then, with all the steadfast resolution of her teens: "I shall never marry," she told him.
Only girls in their teens—taking life very seriously because of them—ever say that. When they get older they commit themselves to no such rash statement, lest it might be believed.
Ginger's turn took place in the Post Office itself. He had been waiting for it for six weeks, so, of course, being fully prepared, it caught him at a disadvantage when it came. As he slipped into the Post Office his prayer was for Pam, but after he 'd got inside and remembered what he 'd sworn to do if it were, he prayed it might be the postmaster, until he thought he heard him coming, when his heart sank at another opportunity lost, and he changed the prayer to Pam again. He was still juggling with it from one to the other, with incredible swiftness and dexterity, when there was a sudden ruffle of skirts and Pam stood waiting behind the counter, with her knuckles on the far edge of it, in a delightful transcription of the postmaster's position.
"Well, Ginger," she said, nodding her beautiful head at him. (Ginger being also a surname, it was quite safe to call him by it.) "Do you want a stamp?"
"... Naw, thank ye. At least ... ah 'm not partic'lar. Ay ... if ye 've gotten one to spare..." said Ginger. "Bud ye 've n' occasion to trouble about it o' mah account. It's naw consequence. Ah 'm not so sure ah could lick it, evens if ye 'ad to gie me it; my mouth 's that dry ..."
"Let me get you a glass of milk, then," said Pam promptly, showing for departure.