24 Turnaside Cottage.

 

Nance ; “do you want to spoil this whole week’s
batch with your cafflin’ and bother, and barley-meal
gone up twopence the winchester last market-day ?
Lady, indeed! Go you and carry me in a lump of
clay to stumm the door round. Sharp, now, and no
nonsense.”

When I came back with the clay, the oven was
already swept out, and the sides and floor were
sparkling like the sky on a frosty night. I waited
until the bread was all in, and Nance was plastering
the clay round the edges of the flagstone door, before
I began again. “But, Nance, the lady spoke tome
—she really did!”

“Well, and did you make your bow and answer
her pretty, as you ought to have done ?”

I fell as from a pedestal on to common ground.
I had been fancying myselfa hero, and now Nance’s
question suggested an uncomfortable suspicion that
perhaps I might have behaved better under the
circumstances. I stammered out in reply, “ Why,
I didn’t speak to her at all this time, but I will
next.”

“ Think she will speak to ye again, and you that
rudetoher? No!” exclaimed Nance, turning round
upon me. “There’s a pig you are, too,” added
she, as her eye fell on my grimed hands and
muddy boots. “I never did see such a boy as you