"I would rather die," and she drew back closer to the trunk of the tree.
"Well, you needn't shudder as if I were snakes or coal-tar; you may not know it, young lady, but you are not everybody's money, in spite of your good looks. I'm not a stickler myself, still it isn't all plain sailing marrying a girl who won't go into a church, and whose family is a mystery. It would not add to the business, I assure you."
"My family a mystery?" said Margaret. Lena cocked up her head like a snake and looked through the leaves; she could see them quite plainly. "How dare you—"
"Oh, well, we won't say anything more about it if you're going to explode. Still, there may be all sorts of crimes covered up for what we know to the contrary, and I understand that the farm will belong to Hannah by and by—"
"And that's why you thought of marrying her, I suppose?" she asked, indignantly.
"Of course it is," he answered triumphantly, "but I'd rather have you with nothing at all. I'm quite gone on you, Margaret; I am, indeed."
"How dare you call me Margaret?"
"All right, then I'm very fond of you, ducky; will that do? And I'll marry you to-morrow if you like—get a special license, wake up the parson, and off we go. You've only got to say the word. Now, come, give us a kiss and say it's all right. I'm not a bad sort, I tell you, and I'm bound to get on, and we'll do all manner of things when we are married—you bet. Come now?"
"Mr. Garratt," Margaret said in a low voice, "it's very kind of you to want to marry me, but—but I want you to understand," and the hot tears rushed down her flushed cheeks, "that I simply can't bear you."
"That's a straight one—you do give them out, you know."