Nearly a score of journeys did David make to and from that copse, while Rebecca fanned herself with a beech-branch and gibed at him for his slowness.
“I do ’low you do eat more nor you do pick,” she remarked at last.
David stood stock still, indignant and disheartened.
“There’s no pleasin’ ye!” he cried. “I haven’t so much as ate one.”
“No more have I then!” exclaimed Rebecca; and uplifting her beechen fan she proudly showed him a pile of the ruddy berries neatly arranged on a flat stone beside her.
“There, you be to eat ’em all!” she announced with an imperative wave of the hand, “I did save ’em up for ye.”
“You must have half,” said he.
But Rebecca shook her head.
He sat down beside her on the short turf and placed the stone between them.
“Certain sure you must have some of ’em,” he cried. “I shan’t care to eat ’em if you don’t.”