"Ah!—indeed! I come through this 'ere very arternoon, and uncommon pretty everythin' was lookin', wi' the grass so green, and the trees so—so—"
"Shady."
"Shady's the word!" nodded the Pedler, glancing up at me through his narrowed eyelids, and chuckling. "A paradise you might call it—ah! a paradise or a—garden of Eden, wi' Eve and the serpent and all!" and he broke out into a cackling laugh. And, in the look and the laugh, indeed about his whole figure, there was something so repellent, so evil, that I was minded to kick and trample him down into the ditch, yet the leering triumph in his eyes held me.
"Yes?" said I.
"Ye see, bein' by, I 'appened to pass the cottage—and very pretty that looked too, and nice and neat inside!"
"Yes?" said I.
"And, bein' so near, I 'appened to glance in at the winder, and there, sure enough, I see—'er—as you might say, Eve in the gardin. And a fine figure of a Eve she be, and 'andsome wi' it—'t ain't often as you see a maid the likes o' 'er, so proud and 'aughty like."
"Well?"
"Well, just as I 'appened to look in at the winder, she 'appened to be standin' wi' an open book in 'er 'and—a old, leather book wi' a broken cover."
"Yes?" said I.