He fell back, crestfallen and hurt.
For a minute silence stood between them. Never before had he seen her so bewitching.
Then she turned her matchless violet eyes upon him.
"I hain't a spitin' yo', Lem," she explained hurriedly. "I hain't a spitin' you, cose yo' air a good boy an'—an' I like yo', Lem. But I jest cyant promise whut yo' want me t' now."
Astounded, he stood fumbling for words. Then he suddenly tossed his long hair back with a jerk of his head—a gesture that had characterized his father.
"Belle-Ann," he cried hotly, "whut ails yo', little gal; air hit some tuther bein' yo' love? Air thet Jutt Orlick bin a pesterin' yo' an' yo're afeerd t' tell me? Belle-Ann, little gal, do yo'-all love Orlick? Air hit em whut yo' love, an' afeerd t' own on hit? Air ye 'lowin' t' get shut o' me, Belle-Ann?" he pursued vehemently.
She faced about and fixed her liquid eyes upon him. Her heart hurt and she turned away again. And he was instantly sorry that he had accused her.
She stepped over and sat on the spruce-log, dangling her hat and regarding her tan shoes.
"Looky heah," he burst out fervently, "cum, deah little Belle-Ann; cum kiss me."
Very slowly she shook her raven curls.