“I wasn’t laughing, Mark,” said the girl, holding out her hand. “I was only smiling at you. I like it. Shows your ’art’s in the right place.”
“Jenny!” And “business,” as theatrical people say.
“Now, don’t, Mark. That’ll do. Suppose Sir Hilton was to come?”
“Let him,” said the groom, sharply. “I ain’t ashamed of loving the dearest, sweetest little lass in the country, though she has got a sharp tongue that goes through me sometimes like a knife.”
“All the better for you, Master Mark. You want talking-to, for you’ve been a deal too wild.”
“Nay, nay, nay, Jenny; ’ossy, but never wild.”
“Let’s see,” said Jane, going on giving touches to the breakfast-table. “But stop a minute. What do you want here? Her ladyship wouldn’t like it if she caught you.”
“Ain’t she gone out?”
“Oh, yes, I forgot. Well, Sir Hilton’ll be down directly, and he’ll ask you why you’ve come.”
“No, he won’t. I shall have first word.”