"I niver did!" she cried, more indignant than truthful.
"Yes, yo' did, when we was little uns; that is, yo' was allus for kissin' and I was allus agin it. And noo," with whole-souled bitterness, "I mayn't so much as keek at yo' over a stone wall."
However that might be, he was keeking at her from closer range now; and in that position--for he held her firmly still--she could not help but keek back. He looked so handsome ~--humble for once; penitent yet reproachful; his own eyes a little moist; and, withal, his old audacious self,--that, despite herself, her anger grew less hot.
"Say yo' forgie me and l'll let yo' go."
"I don't, nor niver shall," she answered firmly; but there was less conviction in her heart than voice.
"Iss yo' do, lass," he coaxed, and kissed her again.
"Hoo daur yo'?" she cried through her tears. But he was not to be moved.
She remained dumb, and he kissed her again.
