"She can't draw it," snickered Zeph. "Handle's broke; and the crank'll slip out of her hands and knock her to Jericho, if she don't look out."
"Seems to be a perty spoken gal," said Peakslow, turning to finish his breakfast. "I've nothin' ag'in her. You've finished your breakfast; better go out, Dudley, and tell her to look out about the crank."
With mixed emotions in his soul, Dud went; his countenance enlivened at one and the same time with a blush of boyish bashfulness and a malicious grin. As he drew near, and saw Vinnie embarrassed with the windlass, which seemed determined to let the bucket down too fast (as if animated with a genuine Peakslow spite toward her), the grin predominated; but when she turned upon him a troubled, smiling face, the grin subsided, and the blush became a general conflagration, extending to the tips of his ears.
"How does 't go?"
"It's inclined to go altogether too fast," said Vinnie, stopping the windlass; "and it hurts my hands."
"Le' me show ye."
And Dud, taking her place by the curb, let the windlass revolve with moderated velocity under the pressure of his rough palms, until the bucket struck the water. Then, drawing it up, he filled her pail.
The grin had by this time faded quite out of his countenance; and when she thanked him sweetly and sincerely for helping her, the blush became a blush of pleasure.
"It is more than I can carry," she said. "I shall have to pour out some."
Thereupon Dud Peakslow astonished himself by an extraordinary act of gallantry.