“I know that that basket betrayed its presence to me more than once as it hung on my arm after the first three mile hither,” said the girl.
“As I live'tis a seven-pound pink salmon, and 'twas swimming in the sea at noon this day,” said Susan when she had opened the basket.
“She must ha' heard that we were supping at the mill this eve'n, and that I was of the company,” said the blacksmith. “Mistress Polwhele, my respects to you!”
“Nay, Master Hal, had I known that you were to be of the company, the salmon would ha' been a fifteen-pounder at least—that is if I wanted any of the others to have a mouthful,” laughed the girl.
She was out of the room before the blacksmith had ceased rattling his chair in his pretence of rising to carry out the menace he made with his fist when she was speaking.
The miller and his guests watched in silence the door through which she had gone.
“A bit of a change from Jake Pullsford, eh, friends!” remarked Hal.
“That's what we needed sorely,” said the miller.