“Your aunt!” exclaimed Chris. “Your aunt! Well, that beats all.”
He took off his hat and waved it; he danced a kind of jig upon the footpath; he threw himself sideways against the hedge, laughing all the while, so that Ruby stared in amazement. Suddenly he composed himself.
“That be another tale, indeed, my maid,” said he. “I were a-thinking all the time ’twas your young man you was expectin’ to hear from. But why was you always so eager on the look-out for me?”
“I’m sure I wasn’t,” said Ruby, and she blushed to the roots of her hair. She dared not look at Chris for a full moment, but at last was constrained to raise her eyes to his face, and there, lo, and behold! he was blushing too. And looking at her—yes—with that very self-same expression which she had seen in his eyes on the morning when she had first hidden herself behind the blackboard. He came a step nearer, and his blue-coated arm began to insinuate itself between the hedge and her trim waist.
“Then why, my maid,” he began gently—“that there game, ye know—why didn’t you let me finish?”
“Why,” said Ruby, between laughing and crying, “because you hadn’t begun.”
He whistled softly under his breath.
“Shall us begin now?” said he. “You and me—we’ll do it proper this time.”
“Begin courting?” said she innocently.
“Yes, we’ll play the game right. Here’s a Fine Thing and a very Fine Thing—that’s you, my dear—now what’s the owner of this Fine Thing to do? The owner—that’s me—why—this——”