“Wal, you consated thing!” retorted the lout, with a pretence at being indifferent; “how do thee know I be come to see thee? I may have business wi’ Mast’ Dancey, mayent I?”
“If you have, he’s not at home.”
“Where be he gone?”
“Over to Stone Dean. He’s only left here a minute ago. He went by the short cut across the woods. If you keep on, you’ll easily overtake him.”
“Bah!” ejaculated the woodman, “I beant in such a hurry. My bizness wi’ your father ’ll keep till he coom back; but I’se also got somethin’ to say to thyself as woan’t keep much longer. Thee be done up wonderful fine this mornin’! Be theer another fête to come off? ’Tan’t day o’ a fair, be it?”
“My doing up, as you call it, has nothing to do with either fête, or fair. I’m dressed no different from other days, I’m sure. I’ve only put on my new skirt and boddice—because—because—.”
Notwithstanding her readiness, Mistress Betsey appeared a little perplexed to find an excuse for being habited in her holiday attire.
“Because,” interrupted the woodman, noticing her confusion, “because thee wast lookin’ out for some ’un. That’s the because. Bet Dancey!” continued he, his increased jealousy stimulating him to bolder speech; “doant try to deceive me. I arn’t such a blind fool as you think I be. You’ve put on your finery to receive some ’un as you ha’ been expectin’. That swaggerin’ soger, I ’spose? May be the fine gentleman o’ Stone Dean hisself; or I wouldna’ wonder if’t mout be that ere Indyen dummy o’ his. You beeant partickler, Bet Dancey; not you. All’s fish as cooms to thy net—all’s one.”
“Will Walford!” cried the girl, turning red under his taunts, “I shall not listen to such talk—either from you or any one. If you’ve nothing else to say to me, you may pass on.”
“But I hev’ somethin’ else to say to thee; and I mean to say’t now, Bet.”