“You’ll deny it, of course, being a woman in the making. But I heard you.” And he quoted for her, singing: “Hey, young love! Ho, young love! Where do you tarry?” “I was hiding on the other side of the wall. I came at once. And all I get for my pains and the risk to a fairly new pair of breeches is a blow and a denial.” “You may get more if you remain.” “I hope so. I had not come else.” “But it’ll be as little to your liking.” “That’s as may be. Meanwhile there’s this matter of a blow. Now a blow is a thing I take from nobody. For a man there is my sword....” “Your sword!” She abandoned herself to laughter. “And you don’t even own a penknife.” “Oh, yes I do. I own a sword. It was a gift from my father to-day--a birthday gift. I am nineteen to-day, Nan.” “How fast you grow! You’ll be a man soon. And so your father has given you a sword?” She leaned against the bole of a tree, and surveyed him archly. “That was very rash of your father. You’ll be cutting yourself, I know.” He smiled, but with a little less of his earlier assurance. But he made a fair recovery. “You are straying from the point.” “The point of your sword, sweet sir?” “The point of my discourse. It was concerning this matter of a blow. If you were a man I am afraid I should have to kill you. My honour would demand no less.” “With your sword?” she asked him innocently. “With my sword, of course.” “Ugh. Jack the Giant-Killer in a cherry orchard! You must see you are out of place here. Get you gone, boy. I don’t think I ever liked you, Randal. Now I’m sure of it. You’re a bloody-minded fellow for all your tender years. What you’ll be when you’re a man ... I daren’t think.” He swallowed the taunt. “And what you’ll be when you’re a woman is the thing I delight in thinking. We’ll return to that. Meanwhile, this blow....” “Oh, you’re tiresome.” “You delay me. That is why. What I would do to a man who struck me I have told you.” “But you can’t think I believe you.” This time he was not to be turned aside. “The real question is what to do to a woman.” He approached her. “When I look at you, one punishment only seems possible.” He took her by the shoulders in a grip of a surprising firmness. There was sudden alarm in those eyes of hers that hitherto had been so mocking. “Randal!” she cried out, guessing his purpose. Undeterred he accomplished it. Having kissed her, he loosed his hold, and stood back for the explosion which from his knowledge of her he was led to expect. But no explosion came. She stood limply before him, all the raillery gone out of her, whilst slowly the colour faded from her cheeks. Then it came flowing back in an all-suffusing flood, and there was a pathetic quiver at the corners of her mouth, a suspicious brightness in her drooping eyes. “Why, Nan!” he cried, alarmed by phenomena so unexpected and unusual. “Oh, why did you do that?” she cried on a sob.