“Behave, and let a body finish! To that about the minister, and me never marrying, Jason he tells I as all young maids be ’ockerd at axing. ‘But a’ll gi’ thee another chance,’ says he. ‘’Oolt thee or ’ootent thee? Cry ‘beans’ when I cry ‘peas,’ and it’s a bargain!’ Wi’ that, he offers to kiss me!”
“The—frowsy son of a gun! Don’t say you ever——”
“Likely!... I fetched ’n a smack in the face....”
“Bravo!”
“Following up with the promise that I’d rather die than wed ’n, and all the same so if he were hung wi’ gold and di’monds....”
“There’s my girl! What more?”
“Oh, Jason, he were cruel casted down. Quite desperate-like, and threatened me he’d ’list for a soger.... ‘Why, they would wash ’e!’ I tells ’n; and he bundled away in a girt hurry, and haven’t come athirt I since.... But your mother must ha’ heard, her looks be so mortal glum.”
“Never mind her looks! Tell her I’ve got a better husband for her pretty dairymaid than her pigman comes to, dang his dratted impudence!”
She rallied him in rude country fashion, its homeliness redeemed by the beauty of the speaking mouth and the dancing hazel eyes.
“You be jealous!”