He had possessed himself of one of her little sunburnt hands, and was shaking it up and down; as she laughed on, he drew her to him suddenly; but at that she started back, striking out at him like a little wild cat.
“None of that,” she cried, “I’ll never ha’ nothin’ to say to ye, if you do try to do things like that.”
“Eh, I ax your pardon,” faltered Robert, much abashed. “I didn’t mean no harm, my dear—’tisn’t reckoned no harm at all up i’ th’ North when folks begins coortin’. You did look so bonny—an’ I just reckoned ’twould give us a good start like.”
“I won’t have it then!” she broke out violently.
She stooped over her basket, packing away the remainder of the tea-things with a certain amount of unnecessary clatter. Robert, whose proffered help was curtly declined, stood by dejectedly till she had concluded, when, snatching up the basket, she darted suddenly from his side, and bending her head rushed into the track. He immediately followed her, carrying her hat which she had left suspended on the branch.
“You’re forgettin’ this,” he began diffidently. “Now then, lass, coom! This didn’t ought to make no difference. Will ye gie me a straight answer?”
Rebecca had deposited her basket on the ground and was putting on her hat with trembling fingers.
“I’ll think of it,” she stammered. “You must be respectful though.”
A dark flush overspread Robert’s face.
“I didn’t mean nought but what was respectful,” he said, “and ye’ve no need to think so much as that cooms to. It must be Yes or No. I could never bear shilly-shally work. Yes or No—take me or leave me—on trial of course. I only ax to be took on trial.”