lane I mean,
comrade: 't lies atween Cowslip Meadow and th' pool i' th'
hollow--Sweethearts' Way, they call 't)--well, as I was getting o'er th'
style--as I had just got me o'er by one leg, after this fashion, ye
mind; as though this chair here were th' style, and yonder chimney-place
th' lane--Sweethearts' Way, ye mind--well, as I was half over, and
Mumble, th' turnspit pup, half under, as 'twere, I heard voices--voices,
comrade--one o' them th' voice o' that lass o' mine, and t'other th'
voice o' young Hacket.

"Here be a coil," say I. "What's to do?"

Now the pup seemed to be filled with the spirit o' th' Lord all on a
sudden, after th' fashion o' th' talking jackass i' th' Scriptures; for
if a didna talk a did th' next thing to 't--a tried to. And after
pulling at my heels like as though a fiend had got him, a scuttles into
th' thicket, for no cause, as I could see, but to give me th' benefit
o' example. So in goes I after him. Scarce was I settled, with a
bramble down th' back o' my neck, and some honey-bees at work too nigh
to my legs for my peace o' mind, when they come, and both a-chattering
at th' same time like two magpies with slit tongues.

"Thou didst!" quoth he. "That did I not!" quoth she. "Thou didst, and I
can prove 't on thee!" quoth he, louder than afore. "I tell thee I did
not, and thou canst sooner prove that Bidford Mill turns the Avon than
that I did!" quoth she. "Wilt thou stand there and tell me i' th' eyes
that thou hast so oft looked love into," quoth he, like a man choked
with spleen--"I say, wilt thou, Keren Lemon, stand there and face me,
Robert Hacket, and say thou hast ne'er given me reason to believe that
thou didst love me?" quoth he. "No more cause than I've given to twenty
better than thee!" quoth she. "Shame on thee to say 't, thou bold-faced
jig!" saith he; "shame on thee, I say! and so will say all honest folk
when I tell 'em o' 't." "An thou tell it, the more fool thou," saith
she; and a draws up her red lips into a circle as though a'd had a
drawstring in 'em, and a stands and looks at him as a used to stand and
look at her dam when she chid her for a romp. Then all on a sudden, with
such a nimbleness as took away my breath and drove all thoughts o'
brambles and honey-bees clean out o' my pate, he jumps aside o' her, and
gets her about th' middle, as he did that day under th' pear-tree, and
quoth he, "Lass," quoth he, "dunnot break my heart! dunnot break th'
heart that loves y