She was heavily, moodily handsome, and her coal-black hair escaped from a cotton bonnet that had been pink but was now almost white with washing and exposure to the sun. Her lad’s clogs were white with dust, her round arms were brown and bare above the elbow, and her dark beauty showed brilliantly in the cool light of the dairy.
“I ha’ come to say good-bye, Miss Stubbs,” she said timidly; “I leave to-night.”
Harriet pursed her faded, cracked lips, and blinked her eyes at the other’s shrinking loveliness.
“And thou’s come to say good-bye to me? Well, God grant we may al’ays ha’ more friends nor we ken; I thank ye.”
“I’m Bessie Wyatt, an’ I’ve slipped out unknown o’ purpose to see ye.”
“An’ that’s a jade’s trick, dodgin’ th’ last o’ your wark instead of straightenin’ up for them that’s to follow ye.”
“’Tis what I wad do—straighten up for her that’s to follow me—wi’ Harry.”
The last words were almost inaudible, and Harriet Stubbs let go the poss-stick.
“My garters, but here’s a coil about this Harry to-day! First his father wi’ his kirk-building, an’ then a milkin’-wench comin’ to say good-bye to neist to a stranger!—How’st mean, to follow ye wi’ Harry?”
Bessie’s bosom rose rapidly.