"Don't do it!" she repeated. "Don't ye dare!"
"Most decidedly not!" I answered, retreating before her threatening
mien; and thus, not caring to turn my back on this young virago, I
fronted her fierce scrutiny with what resolution I could, while
devoutly wishing myself anywhere else in the world. And it was now
that I realised she was taller than myself by fully an inch--indeed,
perhaps a little more.
"Why does ye stare so?" she demanded.
I craved her forgiveness and lifted my offending gaze to the leaves
above her head and maintained a dignified silence; whereupon she
questioned me breathlessly,
"Now what are ye thinking?"
"That the ancient person spoke truly."
"You means as I'm a shrew?"
"Pray remember it was not I said so."
"But you means so! Come, does ye or don't ye?"
"Madam," I began, very conscious of the evil glitter of her knife, "if
you will permit me to--"
"Don't 'madame' me, young man! I don't like it and I won't be madamed
by you or any other--so don't dare--"
"Certainly not!" said I, fixing my gaze on the leaves again. "And may
I suggest that we might converse more easily if you would have the
kindness to put away your knife?"
"My little _churi_, d'ye mean? Not I, young man, not I! 'T is my
best friend as saves from evil more than once! And how do I know as
you won't come any games?"
"Games?" I repeated, shaking my head in mystification. "The sports of
youth never interested me--indeed, I never play games--"
"No," cried she, with sudden, shrill laugh, "I don't think you do!"
Here (to my startled amazement) she whipped short petticoats above her
knee and thrust the knife into her garter.
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