“Never mind,” she said blandly, handing him his burden. “You promised to be even with me.”
“The little vixen!” he thought, as he trudged towards a farm where he remembered doctoring a horse. “She ought to be put in the ducking-pond! What a lucky escape!”
CHAPTER III
JINNY AT HER HOMES
I remember the black wharves and the slips
And the sea-tides tossing free,
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips
And the beauty and mystery of the ships
And the magic of the sea.
Longfellow, “My Lost Youth.”