The girl was attractive, a fact people were quick to recognize, and she was so accustomed to seeing them turn and look after her that she would have been piqued had they not done so. Her ways were wilful but there was a grace in them all. Mischief lurked in the dark blue eyes, which now lighted with genuine pleasure. She fluttered from her horse as a bird alights and threw her arms around the child, exclaiming, “And how is little Naomi?” Then, holding the child from her, she looked in her face and said, “You are a dear. Aren’t you proud of her, Rodney?”
“She’s just as good as she looks,” the boy replied, blushing with pleasure, and then glanced at the youth, who did not appear to notice him but slyly spurred his horse, so that the animal in swerving would have knocked Rodney into the ditch had the lad not been nimble.
“Nith; red,” said the child, clutching the girl’s scarlet cloak.
“Yes, and you like my poor, old red hat, too, don’t you? though Cousin Mogridge says it ill becomes me.”
“Eth, pretty too,” and the child pouted her lips for a kiss.
Not one, but several, were most graciously given her with the admonition: “Next time you be sure and remember me and my name. Say Lisbeth Danesford.”
“Lithbeth Danethford,” repeated the child, looking 3 up into the face of the girl, her big, brown eyes full of seriousness. “I like ’oo.”
“Have a care, ’Omi, for once Lisbeth knows that she’ll treat you as she does her other admirers.”
This remark was surprisingly impolite for Master Rodney Allison, but he was offended that Lisbeth had not introduced him to her London cousin, whom he was itching to thump. Moreover he had experienced Lisbeth’s fickleness.