“Kiss me well, honey-sweet,” said she, “and you shall have the cookies.”
So Abigail kissed the goodwife in return for her gift.
“Heigh-ho!” remarked Master Ronald, “in all this worry and grief I forgot that every maid has a sweet tooth, if she be the proper sort of maid.” In spite of his little pleasantry, his troubled look remained.
Abigail ate steadily, not pausing to talk, only now and then glancing at her companion. After awhile Master Ronald rose, and strode up and down with savage impatience. “Alack!” he said, “I seem to be losing my wits.”
Abigail, having finished, commenced putting the remaining cookies in her pocket.
“Why do you do that?” asked Master Ronald.
“I want summat to eat on my way home,” answered Abigail, resolutely, crowding in the last cooky.
The young man laughed, but his laughter ended abruptly in a sigh of pain.
Abigail could not but admire the grand and easy way in which, with a wave of his hand, he bade the inn-keeper charge the breakfast to his account, as they left the coffee-house.