Louie studied him threateningly.
'Weel, I'd be even wi yo soomhow,' was her final conclusion; and disappearing through the ruined doorway, she ran down the slope to where one of the great mill-stones lay hidden in the heather, and diving into its central hole, produced the book, keenly watched the while by David, who took mental note of the hiding-place.
'Naw then,' she said, walking up to him with her hands behind her and the book in them, 'tell me yor secret.'
David first forcibly abstracted the book and made believe to box her ears, then went back to his seat and his boat.
'Go on, can't yo!' exclaimed Louie, after a minute, stamping at him.
David laid down his boat deliberately.
'Well, yo won't like it,' he said; 'I know that. But—I'm off to Manchester, that's aw—as soon as I can goo; as soon as iver I can hear of onything. An I'm gooin if I don't hear of onything. I'm gooin onyways; I'm tired o' this. So now yo know.'
Louie stared at him.
'Yo ain't!' she said, passionately, as though she were choking.
David instinctively put up his hands to keep her off. He thought she would have fallen upon him there and then and beaten him for his 'secret.'