might drink water and drink water and never quench their thirst. Peggy was reputed quite harmless.
“You haven’t seen Peter, have you?” she cooed, suddenly.
“No,” replied Matt, with a fresh, nervous thrill. “But this is not a night for you to be out and about. It’s bitter cold.”
“It’s bitter cold,” she repeated, “bitter cold for an old man like you, but not for a girl like me, loved by the handsomest young fellow in the Province; the heart within me keeps me warm, always warm and thirsty. Give me more water.”
“No, you’ve hed ’nough,” said Matt. “It’s a shame your folks don’t look arter you better.”
“Look after me! They’re all up at the ball, the heartless creatures; but I saw the weddings, both of them, in spite of them all, and I think it’s high time Peter came back from the sugaring to our wedding, and I’ve come to tell him so. This is the spot he used to sugar at. Are you sure you haven’t seen him? You are his partner; confess, now,” she wound up, cajolingly, turning her lovely face towards his troubled gaze.
“Can’t you see I’m only a boy?” he replied.
“Nonsense. You’re not a boy. Boys always call after me and pull my shawl. I know all the boys.”
Matt felt the moisture gathering afresh under his eyelids.
“What’s your name, then?” she went on, sweetly.