She gave her apron a defiant tug.
Milbanke stood uncertain and embarrassed, nervously curious as to Clodagh's next move. With a certain misgiving he saw her face brim over with delight; then with a sense of complete amazement he saw her step suddenly to the side of the indignant Hannah, throw one arm impulsively round her neck, and give her a hasty kiss.
"Indeed you won't speak to him, Hannah—and you know you won't," she said in her most beguiling tones. "And you'll make a griddle cake for lunch—just to show you aren't angry. Come on, Mr. Milbanke! Larry is waiting."
As they crossed the kitchen, Hannah defiantly passed the corner of her apron across her eyes and ostentatiously resumed her interrupted work.
At the door Clodagh looked back.
"Hannah!" she said persuasively.
Hannah began to scrape her saucepan.
"Go on wid you now, Miss Clodagh!" she cried. "Sure 'tis a pair of ye that's there. I'm out wid ye."
"But the griddle cake, Hannah?"
"Let Betsy over at Mrs. Asshlin's make griddle cake for ye. Maybe she wouldn't put up wid Masther Larry as aisy as me."