“Winked at wheä?” demanded Jim.
“At the young lady who lives at The Elms.”
“Not afore she pulled a feäce at me.”
“Well, if you wink at her again I’ll lick you.”
“Mebbe.”
“There’s no ‘mebbe’ about it. Come down to the other end of the green now, if you think I can’t.”
Jim Bates was no coward, but he was faced with the alternative of yielding gracefully and watching the showmen at work or risking a defeat in a needless battle. He chose the better part of valor.
“It’s neän o’ my business,” he said. “I deän’t want te wink at t’ young leddy.”
At the inn door Mrs. Atkinson’s three little girls were standing with Kitty Thwaites, the housemaid. The eldest, a bonnie child, whose fair skin was covered with freckles, ran toward Martin.