Jill replied by a gay little laugh. The summer in the day got more and more into her face. She gave Nat many shy and lovely glances.
“Look yere,” he said suddenly; “you ain’t answered my question.”
“What is it, lad?”
“When are we to be married, Jill? I’ll ha’ a holiday in three weeks, and I thought we might go before the registrar just then, and afterwards go away for a week into the country. What do you say?”
“Oh, I can’t say nothing. There’s mother, you know.”
“But your mother won’t keep us apart, Jill. That ’ud be cruel.”
“No, but I can’t leave her. You know that.”
“Well, look yere; I don’t want you to leave her. I’m doin’ well wid my barrer, and you and me, we might take the flat alongside of Mrs Stanley’s, just under where you now live. Surely your mother and the boys could manage for one another, and you’d be always close to see to ’em, ef they was in any fix. The rooms is to be let, I know, and ef you say the word, Jill, I’ll speak to the landlord this very night.”
“But that flat costs a heap o’ money; it don’t seem right nohow,” said Jill.
“Yes, it’s as right as anything, darlin’. I’m ’arning good money now, it’s all perfectly square. You leave it to me. You say yes, Jill; that’s all you ha’ got to do.”