“I d’ ’low it ’ud be better if ye did put ‘What’s been in my mind since the death o’ Missus Neale,’” suggested a tall lad, with a smothered roar of laughter.
“No, ’twouldn’t do at all,” said Lizzie. “It ’ud put him in mind o’ the poor body, and he’d be that down-hearted he wouldn’t have no fancy for cwortin’ Hannah. Keep quiet, else I can’t read. There, the match be out now; ’tis your fault.”
“Let the maid alone till she’ve a-read us what she’ve a-wrote,” growled somebody from the darkness, which seemed intense now that the little flickering light had vanished. Jem struck another match, and Lizzie continued, reading quickly—
“‘You must find it terr’ble hard to manage without no missus; an’ I’m beginning to feel lonesome now I be gettin’ into years—’”
“I d’ ’low that’ll sp’ile her chances!” exclaimed someone in the background. Lizzie twisted her head round angrily:
“Nothin’ o’ the kind; Giles ’ud never look at nobody without it were a staid ’ooman. Second match is near out now. I won’t be bothered readin’ the letter to ye at all if ye keep on a-interruptin’ of I. Well—
“‘I’ve been a-thinkin’ we might do worse nor make a match. I could do for you, and you’d be company for I. Besides’—here Lizzie’s voice quavered with laughter—‘I’ve took a mortal fancy to you, Giles, an’ think you the handsomest man ever I see. My heart have been yours two year an’ more. If you think well on the notion you might meet me to-morrow in the Little Wood at breakfast time.—Yours truly,
“Hannah Pethin.
“‘P.S.—As I’m feelin’ a bit timid along o’ writin’ this here letter, I’d be obliged if ye’d kindly not mention it when we meets face to face.’”
The match had burnt itself out a moment or two previously, but Lizzie remembered her composition sufficiently well to recite it without such aid, and was rewarded for the effort by shouts of approving laughter.