“I doubt I will go to church arter all,” she added.
“Nay, a promise is a promise,” returned Luke, catching her by the arm. “Sit yo’ down again, an’ tell me why yo’ reckon I’m a noddy.”
“Well, a body can’t think it anything but foolish to go on a-keepin’ up spite along of a wench same’s that,” cried she, twitching away her arm, but making no further effort to leave him. “She couldn’t be worth mich if she could go takin’ up wi’ another chap so quick.”
“That’s true,” agreed Luke. “She was in a hurry to forget me.”
“She mun ha’ been a leet-minded snicket not worth frettin’ arter,” pursued Jinny warmly. “An’ she can’t ha’ had a bit o’ sperrit neither. She ought to ha’ stood up to yo’ an’ showed yo’ yo’ was doin’ her no harm an’ yo’rself no good. If I’d ha’ bin in her shoes—” She stopped short, colouring again to the roots of her hair.
“Set yo’ down again, do,” said Luke persuasively. “What ’ud yo’ ha’ done if yo’d been in her shoes, Jinny?”
Jinny sat down, but for once in her life was dumbfounded; she did not dare raise her eyes to Luke’s face.
“Theer’s no knowin’ what yo’ met ha’ done wi’ me if yo’d ha’ bin in Mary’s shoes,” he went on. “Yo’ve a wonderful manageable way wi’ yo’, Miss Whiteside.”
“I don’t seem able to manage yo’ though,” said Jinny inconsequently. “I’ve had lodgers, a-mony of ’em, an’ I’ve took a interest in ’em all, an’ they allus did what I wanted—all of ’em, nobbut yo’. Yo’re the first as ever refused to do what I axed yo’.”
“Coom,” cried Luke indignantly. “I’m sure I’ve gived in to yo’ more’n I’ve ever gived in to a wumman before. I’ve done all as yo’ axed me—nay, yo’ didn’t ax me, yo’ ordered me, an’ I’m not one as likes to be ordered by a wumman—but I gived in all but the one thing—I’ve gived yo’ my rayson for that.”