"
"Who spoke to her! Not I for one."
"Nor I. I would not bemean myself so far."
The man laughed heartily at this display of dignity. "Come, wife," said
he, "never lower thy flag to such light skirmishers as these. Hast a
tongue i' thy head as well as they."
"Alack, good soldier, I was not bred to bandy foul terms."
"Well, but hast a better arm than these. Why not take 'em by twos across
thy knee, and skelp 'em till they cry Meculpee?"
"Nay, I would not hurt their bodies for all their cruel hearts."
"Then ye must e'en laugh at them, wife. What! a woman grown, and not
see why mesdames give tongue? You are a buxom wife; they are a bundle of
thread-papers. You are fair and fresh; they have all the Dutch rim under
their bright eyes, that comes of dwelling in eternal swamps. There lies
your crime. Come, gie me thy pitcher, and if they flout me, shalt see
me scrub 'em all wi' my beard till they squeak holy mother." The
pitcher was soon filled, and the soldier put it in Margaret's hand. She
murmured, "Thank you kindly, brave soldier."
He patted her on the shoulder. "Come, courage, brave wife; the divell
is dead!" She let the heavy pitcher fall on his foot directly. He cursed
horribly, and hopped in a circle, saying, "No, the Thief's alive and has
broken my great toe."
The apron came down, and there was a lovely face all flushed with'
emotion, and two beaming eyes in front of him, and two hands held out
clasped.
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