“She is prettier than Polly is.”
“But she is such a Ragamuffin; and she has never an incredible hat and a Gainsborough frock to call her own.”
“She has her mauve, Jim,” said Miss Perry.
“No,” said Jim, decisively; “in spite of her mauve I decline to marry the Ragamuffin.”
Miss Perry looked vastly disappointed.
“Milly is too young,” said she.
Jim pressed the nondescript. The ice was getting desperately thin. And every moment the light of the morning was making it thinner.
“Goose Girl,” said Jim, “do you remember that once you promised to marry me?”
“Yes, I did, Jim,” said Miss Perry, “if you got those three big red-cheeked apples off the tree at the Red House at Widdiford.”
“I got them off all right,” said Jim. “But instead of receiving your hand in matrimony I got a tremendous licking.”