“Ay, I remember,” said Ann, who, with native intelligence, spoke much better than did any of her companions, and, indeed, nearly as well as the country gentlefolk. “I played the poor lad a neat trick, and left him to get back through the mud of the lanes as best he could.”
“Serve him roight, too!” retorted Ben, roughly. “Oi should be main sorry to think you had any sneaking loiking for a king’s man, Ann; a lass of spirit loike you!”
“I’ve no liking for anybody,” said Ann, impatiently; “but my own kin and my own kind. Liking, indeed! What dost take me for, to speak as if I’d aught of a feeling of kindness for the young rascal that’s done more harm to us in a month than the rest of the king’s men have in half a year!”
“That’s roight, lass; spoke with spirit. Spoke loike my cousin, my good cousin, that’s to be my woife!”
“Time enough for talk of that, Ben, when we get the coast clear of the cutter’s men and the red-coats!” said Ann, shortly. “And now, let’s to our work; ’tis for us to search the road for this young spark. ’Tis but a matter of form, though; for he’ll be back to his ship long ere this!”
“You think so?”
“I’m sure on’t.”
“Still, you’ll have a hunt for him?”
“Ay, and if I find him, I pray Heaven I may find him alone. I should like to settle accounts with him—by myself—dearly, dearly!”
She spoke between her clenched teeth. And Ben laughed.