six-foot stripling, but for
a' that, as sweet as bells far away on a still noon in summer-tide. And
she was always getting hold o' saucy songs, and putting them to tunes o'
her own invention. A could 'a' had aye the lads i' th' village, had a
wanted 'em; but, Lord! a had one sweetheart one day, and another the
next, till they were one and all for murdering or marrying her. But she
would none o' 'em. 'Twas one summer's day, her mother being gone to th'
village, that she did set about to brew some sack; and as she did stand
by the big pot while it cooled, to see that naught fell into 't, up
comes Master Peter Mouldy with his knitting, and grins at her across
the caldron, after the fashion o' a horse eating briers. She not
noticing him, quoth he,

"Good-morrow, sweet Mistress Lemon."

Saith she, not looking at him,

"Thou liest."

"How, mistress?" saith he, with his mouth as wide as a church door on a
Sunday.

"Why, for calling a lemon sweet," saith she, "when all the world doth
know that it is sour."

Thereat he did fall a-grinning again.

"Sweet, sweet mistress Keren," quoth he, "'tis thee I praise, and not
thy name. And I will wager that thou art not sour, Mistress Keren."

"How wilt thou find out, either to lose or to win thy wager?" quoth she.

"Thus!" quoth he. And, o' my word, the homespun got his arms about her,
knitting and all (though I would 'a' laid two cows and a lamb they
couldn't 'a' reached about her pretty waist), and smacked her right
heartily full on her red mouth.

Well, comrade, that something would happen I knew full well; but when
she did up with him by the seat o' his breeches and the collar o' his
jerkin, and did souse him head first into the pot o' sack, methought I
would 'a' burst in sunder, like Judas Iscariot (meaning no blasphemy).

And when he was climbed out, spluttering and white with terror, she did
fish out his hat with his big knitting-needles, and did set it upon his
head, and did thrust him outside, and did shut the door in 's face. But
never a word said she from first to last. Then methought in verity I
would 'a' split in twain from top to toe, like the veil o' the temple
(meaning no blasphemy, as I will swear on th' book). And when she caught
sight o' me she too fell a-laughing, and quoth she to me, "I have
spoiled a good brew for thee, father, but 'twas worth the paying for."
And therewith she did out with the worth o' the sack from her purse,
which she always carried