"What—what young Squire Vyell wanted."
They were face to face now. She held up her lips, and as she did so, they parted in an amorous murmurous little laugh. The moonlight was on her face. Taffy bent swiftly and kissed her.
"Oh, you hurt!" With another little laugh, she slipped up the garden-path and into the house.
Ten minutes later Taffy followed, hating himself.
For the next fortnight he avoided her; and then, late one evening, she came again. He was prepared for this, and had locked the door of the smithy and let down the shutter while he worked. She tapped upon the outside of the shutter with her knuckles.
"Let me in!"
"Can't you leave me alone?" he answered, pettishly. "I want to work, and you interrupt."
"I don't want no love-making—I don't indeed. I'll sit quiet as a mouse. But I'm afeared, out here."
"Nonsense!"
"I'm afeared o' the ghost. There's something comin'—let me in, co!"