"How about it, Tessie?" he wheedled in low tones.
Tess wriggled. She didn't know just what answer to give. She wanted to keep the big squatter good-natured, yet desired that he should go away. She was sorry for the little man beneath her.
Prompted by instinct, she turned her solemn brown eyes upon Letts.
"I'll say this to ye, Sandy," she began. "If ye'll let me alone, an' not be tryin' always to kiss me—"
Lysander cracked his knee with one large fist.
"I ain't never got a kiss from ye yet, brat," he chuckled.
"'Course not," she responded; "but 'tain't because ye ain't fit fer one, now air it, Sandy?"
"No, ye can bet on that," laughed the man, "an' I got marks on my shins to this day you put on 'em the last time I tried it. But I like to see ye fight, brat, I swear I do.... Now, how about gettin' married to me, huh?"
Tessibel contemplated the heavy face a moment. She was going to drive a hard bargain with Lysander if she had to drive any at all.
"Ben used to make me awful mad teasin' for kisses," she exclaimed. "I told him an' I air tellin' you, Sandy, I ain't goin' to give any man my kisses less'n I marry him."