“Nay, Betty, flout me not! ’Tis an honest word I’ve said to you, and I look to have it answered honestly.” “I know not what you call honest, Master Alexander Standish”-- “There, now! You can’t even speak without a gibe at my high-sounding name. I count it right down unkind, Betty”-- “Then if I don’t please you, there’s the road home. Isn’t your name Alexander in very sooth, or is that a by-name your mother calls you for short?” “It seems to me, Mistress Alden, that your humor is a little shrewish.” “There, that will do! Never speak to me again so long as you’ve breath to speak at all.” “Nay, Betty, I crave your pardon. ’Twas rude of me, but you put me past my patience.” “Which is such a straitened foothold the least jostle will drive you from it.” “Betty, I love you. Will you be my wife?” “Trust a modest man for impudence, when once he makes a start.” “Betty, I pray you lay aside this mood, and answer me seriously. ’Tis my just due, maiden, and John Alden’s daughter should be honest.” “Well, then, Alick, in all sadness I will answer you--no.” “Do you mean it, Betty?” “As I mean to be saved.” “And will you so far humor your oldest friend as to tell him why?” “You do not love me as the man I wed must love, nor do I love you save as a dear friend of childhood, and as such I shall ever love you. As such and no more.” “I do not love you, say you, lass?” “No. You fain would marry some one out of hand, because Gillian has fooled you, and you’re longing to show her that you care as little as she.” “What--who--did she say such a thing, Betty?” “Nay. Oh, Alick, I must laugh,--you look so red and so befogged!--like the sun rising on a misty morning.” “Who told you--what puts it in your head that I care for Gillian?” “I said not you cared for her; I said she’d fooled you; and ’twas mine own eyes and mother wit told me, and no one else. She’s played with you as my Tabby does with a mouse, only at the last she let you slip from under her claws, not quite killed, and you ran to your old gossip to have the wound salved; that’s all!” “And do you believe it was all put on? Do you truly think she cared nothing at all for me?” “No more than she did for your brother Josias, or my brothers David and Joseph, or Constant Southworth, or, or--the rest”-- “The rest! Oh, you mean Will Pabodie, don’t you? You’ve noted how of late she’s all eyes and ears for him.” “Nay, I’ve noted naught.” The words were few and the voice was cold, but something in the tone made Alick Standish look keenly into the face of his old friend. It was scarlet, and the brave brown eyes were full of tears; but as Betty caught his look she returned it with one of right royal defiance. “Poor David!” said she, steadying her voice with a mighty effort, “he has not got over Tabby’s love-pats yet. He’s worse off than you, Alick. But here we are at home. Come in and have a mug of cider or a noggin of milk after your walk, won’t you, lad?”