Anny looked at him anxiously.
“What does it say?” she said, looking over his shoulder.
“I’ll not tell thee,” he said angrily.
“Oh!” Anny’s tone expressed disappointment, and old Cip de Musset, who had been preparing himself to hear another man’s letter, looked up.
“Oh! nay, lad, nay,” he said solemnly, “tell the lass her own letter. Ay, marry, now you must, to be honest.”
Hal frowned.
“To be honest?” he said, puzzled.
“Ay, to be honest.” Cip was emphatic. “For if you don’t, lad, you alone will know the matter in the letter, which, look you, is not yours but the lass’s. Taking is taking whether it be goods or fine phrases,” he concluded, wagging his head sagely.
Hal shrugged his shoulders.