The man struck his arm across the crupper of the horse, caught her bonnet-string and tore it away.
‘I will beat your brains out against the saddle if you insult me.’
‘A coward is always cruel,’ answered Barbara; as she said this she stood off, lest he should strike again, but he took no notice of her last words, perhaps had not caught them. She said no more, deeming it unwise to provoke such a man.
Presently, turning his head, he asked, ‘Did you call that girl—Eve?’
‘Yes; she is my sister.’
‘That is odd,’ remarked the man. ‘Eve! Eve!’
‘Did you call me?’ asked the young girl who was leading.
‘I was repeating your name, sweet as your face.’
‘Go on, Eve,’ said Barbara.