“Yes, yes!” she cried. “I have her—oh, somewhere! She comes out on occasions. You may never see her; you may see her to-morrow.”
I was to see her often. “My shilling,” I said.
“That was only a jest, Mr. Wynne. My other girl has stolen it, for remembrance of a lad that was brave and—”
“He was a young fool! My shilling, please.”
“No, no!”
At this I touched the mare with my spur. She, not seeing the joke, pranced about, and Miss Darthea was forced to hold to my waist for a minute.
“The mare is ill broke,” she cried. “Why does she not go along quietly?”
“She hates dishonesty,” said.
“But I have not a penny.”
“Thou shouldst never run in debt if thon art without means. It is worse than gambling, since here thou hast had a consideration for thy money, and I am out of pocket by a valuable thought.”