With an effort he restrained himself.
His vehement words had startled her. She scrutinized his countenance keenly. What she saw brought the hot blood to her cheeks and left no doubt in her mind as to the significance of his eulogy and his impassioned eyes.
His look was an insult. She rose and tossed the elf-curls back from her dimpled face. Orlick sat a moment speechless, his mouth open, and studied the graceful length of her back.
Now she faced him again and spoke, and her words carried a volume of reproach.
"Orlick," she began, "why do yo'-all cum t' see th' boys fo'—when you're a drinkin'?"
By way of denial he suddenly gave vent to a raucous guffaw and whipped his knee with his hat, which artifice he calculated would enhance his prestige off-hand. On the contrary, his strident laugh grated strangely upon the girl's mood.
"Drinkin'—drinkin'!" he cried out, amazed. "Why, Belle-Ann, I hain't teched a drap o' liquor fo' six months! An' what's a heap sight mo', Belle-Ann, I hain't never a goin' t'!"
Here he stood up and raised his hand high over his head. "An' I hope Gawd'll paralyze me daid ef I ever touch th' stuff agin!" he declared with a profound, solemn flourish, calculated to emphasize a pledge.
A sudden look of pity grew in the girl's eyes as she studied his face, a look which Orlick mistook for interest.
"Yo' hain't a gittin' down on me like th' tuther fools, air yo', Belle-Ann?"