"Yes, one thing--you can shake hands."
The expression of indignant surprise appeared again in her face, and she
fell back a step, shaking her head stubbornly as she did so.
"I'd rather not--if you don't mind," she answered.
"But if I do mind--and I do."
"Still I'd rather not."
"Do you really dislike me as much as you dislike the miller?"
"More."
"Or the rector?"
"Oh, far more. You are a Gay."
"Yes, I am a Gay," he might have retorted, "and you, my pretty savage,
are very much a Gay, also."
Swinging the lantern in her hand, she moved to the door, as if she were
anxious to put an end to a conversation which had become suddenly too
intimate. On the threshold she looked back, and remarked in a precise,
authoritative voice:
"There are blankets in the bottom drawer if you find you haven't
covering enough."
"I shall remember--there are blankets in the bottom drawer."
"Patsey will bring hot water at eight and Uncle Abednego will give you
breakfast in the dining-room."
"Then I'm not to have it with you?"
"With me? Oh, I live with grandfather. I never come to the big house
except when Mrs.
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