“No.”
“That’s the reason, Mr Jacob, depend upon it. All you have to do is to swear that I’m the prettiest girl in the world, that you like me better than anybody else in the world; do anything in the world that I wish you to do—spend all the money you have in the world in buying me ribbons and fairings, and then—”
“And then, what?”
“Why, then, I shall hear all you have to say, take all you have to give, and laugh at you in the bargain.”
“But I shouldn’t stand that long.”
“O, yes, you would. I’d put you out of humour, and coax you in again; the fact is, Jacob Faithful, I made my mind up, before I saw you, that you should be my sweetheart, and when I will have a thing, I will, so you may as well submit to it at once. If you don’t, as I keep the key of the cupboard, I’ll half starve you; that’s the way to tame any brute, they say. And I tell you why, Jacob, I mean that you shall be my sweetheart; it’s because Mr Turnbull told me that you knew Latin; now, tell me, what is Latin?”
“Latin is a language which people spoke in former times, but now they do not.”
“Well, then, you shall make love to me in Latin, that’s agreed.”
“And how do you mean to answer me?”
“O, in plain English, to be sure.”