'I know that, and am not offended.' 'Your name—it continually slips my memory.' 'Zita.' 'A queer sort of a name that.' 'It is not often you meet a Cheap Jack girl. They do not come thick as windmills in the flats. So it suits me to bear a queer name.' 'A queer name becomes a queer girl.' 'Thanks. I have something for you—half a pound of bird's eye.' 'What for?' 'In payment for my run on the ice.' 'I do not want payment.' 'It gave you trouble, made you hot, but it was a very great pleasure to me.' 'I won't take it.' The young fellow laughed with his merry eyes as well as with his fresh lips. 'Can you understand this, that it gave me five times as much pleasure as it did you to spin you along and see the red roses bloom in your cheeks and those dark eyes of yours twinkle as though there were Jack o' Lanterns dancing in them? Zita, it is not every day that a lad gets the chance of running a pretty girl along the ice. It is I am in debt to you. We'll square the account, anyhow.' He caught her head between his hands and gave her a kiss on her red lips. 'There is the account scored out, and a new account begun.' 'That is not fair!' exclaimed Zita, shrinking back. 'What! not settled? Again, then.' He kissed her once more. 'And so—till all is right, and the balance squared.' Then he laughed, and, releasing her head, said— 'You know we raced,—that old Drownlands and I,—and you were to be the prize. I won you.' Then, seeing that she looked disturbed, he went off to, 'Now, Cheap Jackie, tell me, was not that a droll sort of a life, going over the world in that comical van?' 'It was a very happy life, and the van was not comical at all. It is splendid.' 'I have not seen it.' 'Then why did you call it unsuitable names?' 'A jolly life, was it?' 'Indeed it was. I was very happy in it—specially when we had piled up the profits.' 'You made a pile when you sold my father a flail for a guinea.' 'We did; but if it is any satisfaction to you to know it, it was the thoughts of that made him pass away so happy.' 'A guinea was nought to my father; he was rich. Now I am rich.' Then, with a trip of his foot on the bank as though he were dancing, 'Zita, what a joke it would be for us to go round in the summer with the old van and the stock-in-trade. What have you done with the goods?' 'They are safe.' 'And we will visit Swaffham, and Littleport, and Ely together, and sell away like blazes. I'll attend to the horse, and you shall do all the talking the folk want. What fun it will be!' 'No,' said Zita, colouring; 'that will not be right.' 'Why not?' 'No. It was all very well with my father. But I will not go again.' 'You must—you shall—with me!' 'I will not—indeed I will not.' She turned away. 'Well, anyhow you will show me the van?' 'Yes. When you like.'