“I thought as much,” said Tom gloomily. “I’ve been sittin’ here two hour an’ more. Did she send ye to me?” he added suddenly.
“No, I came myself. I wanted to tell ’ee somethin’, Mr. Locke,” blurted out Lizzie tremulously. “I d’ ’low that if you was to get a glass eye Susan ’ud love you jest the same as ever.”
A dark flush overspread the young farmer’s face, and a flash of anger appeared in his solitary orb.
“Did she tell ’ee to say this?” he asked, after a pause.
“Nay now, nay now, don’t ’ee take on so, Mr. Locke. They was all talkin’ about it in the village laist night; an’ Policeman Blanchard said he knowed a man as had one that could be took in an’ out quite handy, an’ it looked jest the same as t’other, only ’andsomer. An’ I axed Susan if ye was to get one would she walk with ’ee again, an’ she seemed to take to the notion; so I thought I’d jest run here an’ tell ’ee.”
“Did ye?” said Tom. “That was very well done, Lizzie.”
“Well, I thought ’twas but kind,” said Lizzie modestly. “Susan, ye see, has a terrible delicate constitootion, an’ takes things to ’eart. Why, she could scarce so much as walk home from our place laist night.”
“Couldn’t she?” returned Locke sardonically. “She run fast enough out o’ my way—I know that. Aye, she showed as clean a pair o’ heels as a maid need wish to. An’ so she said she’d take to me again if I was to get a glass eye, did she?”
“She said she’d think on’t,” returned the girl cautiously.
Tom took off his hat and bent down till his face was nearly on a level with Lizzie’s.