th she.

"What sayest to Reuben Puff, the tinker?"

"If I say so much as a word to any one o' em," cried she, snatching up
the pail wherein she had brought my victuals, "may thy first grandchild
be born without a tongue!" saith she. And out she went.

Then quoth I to myself, quoth I, "Lemon," quoth I, "the jade's in love
with th' crack--no more, no less." And I said further, said I,
"Bodykins!" said I, a-shoeing of King Edward with all my might, "by cock
and pye!" said I, "an a wants him let a have him. 'Tis more than his
dessert, I'll warrant," so quoth I. "And as for Dame Visor's hussy, let
her learn to bridle her tongue," quoth I. And 'twas just here that wench
Keren did creep up and take me about the neck, as I was a-filing of King
Edward's hoof.

"Father," saith she, "I cry thee pardon if I have sauced thee; but dost
not mind the rhyme thou art so fond of?--

"'Shoe the horse, and shoe the mare,
But let the little colt go bare.'

Seek not to chide me, father, and ne'er will my heels bring hurt to
any."

Then off was she again ere I had spat forth my mouthful o' nails to
answer her.

But that evening as I came home, about the going down o' th' sun, I did
hear voices i' th' kitchen, and, looking in at th' window, behold, there
was that hussy Ruth a-plucking of Keren by th' kirtle, and Keren
a-holding of a pan o' milk above her head, as though she had half a mind
to souse her cousin in 't.

And saith she, "Get to thy feet, wench. This is neither a church, nor am
I th' Lord."

But th' girl (who seemed to be in trouble o' some sort) fell a-sobbing,
and saith she,

"Cousin, cousin, I know I have used thee ill, but all my joy is in him.
If thou takest him from me, better didst thou take my life, for he is
more to me than life."

Then quoth my lass, "Shame on thee to say it o' any man, worthy or
unworthy!"

"Oh, shame enough have I, cousin!" quoth the poor wench--"shame to 'a'
lost him, and shame that I should plead with another to give him back to
me!"

"Go to!" saith Keren; "go to! I have not got him to give him back to
thee."

"Thou hast!" saith Ruth; "thou hast!--he is thine, soul and body--soul
and body! And thou dost not care; and I care--oh, I care so that I know
not how to word it!"

(Every word that passed between 'em is as clear in my mind as though
'twere but yesterday it all happened.)

"I say shame on thee to say so," saith my lass again.

But the wench still hu