“Yes, I shall; and that’s what you are.”
“Come away,” I whispered; “don’t let’s stop listening.”
“We can’t help it, without going all the way back.”
“Poachers always make the best keepers, Polly, and I’m going to be a keeper now, and marry you.”
“Are you, indeed?” said the girl indignantly. “That you just aren’t, and if you ever dare to call me Polly again, I’ll throw a bucket o’ water over you.”
“Not you,” said Magglin. “I say, do have it. It’s real gold.”
“I don’t care if it’s real silver!” cried Polly. “I’ve got brooches of my own, thank you, and I’ll trouble you to go.”
“’Tarn’t good enough for you, I suppose. Well, I’ll bring you something better.”
Bang.
The cottage door was closed violently. Then we heard footsteps, which ceased after a minute, and we went on out toward the lane.