"By what, Cousin Judith?" said the small boy, looking up with his wondering and wistful eyes.
"Why," said she, gayly, "this pansy that you have put fair in the front. Know you not the name of it?"
"Indeed I know it not, Cousin Judith."
"Ah, you cunning one! well you know it, I'll be sworn! Why, 'tis one of the chiefest favorites everywhere. Did you never hear it called 'kiss me at the gate?' Marry, 'tis an excellent name; and if I take you at your word, little sweetheart?"
And so they went into the cottage together; and she had her arm lying lightly round his neck.
CHAPTER VIII.
A QUARREL.
But instantly her manner changed. Just within the doorway of the passage that cut the rambling cottage into two halves, and attached to a string that was tied to the handle of the door, lay a small spaniel-gentle, peacefully snoozing; and well Judith knew that the owner of the dog (which she had heard, indeed, was meant to be presented to herself) was inside. However, there was no retreat possible, if retreat she would have preferred; for here was the aged grandmother—a little old woman, with fresh pink cheeks, silver-white hair, and keen eyes—come out to see if it were Judith's footsteps she had heard; and she was kindly in her welcome of the girl, though usually she grumbled a good deal about her, and would maintain that it was pure pride and wilfulness that kept her from getting married.
"Here be finery!" said she, stepping back as if to gain a fairer view. "God's mercy, wench, have you come to your senses at last?—be you seeking a husband?—would you win one of them? They have waited a goodly time for the bating of your pride; but you must after them at last—ay, ay, I thought 'twould come to that."