Girls -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Juvenile fiction
The quarrel had begun in earnest. For the next half mile the tired
children tramped in angry silence. Then Herbert snatched the creel from
Merrylips.
"'Tis mine!" he said.
He sat down on a grassy bank and opened the creel. Within it were spice
cakes and cheese and a little chicken pasty, and every crumb that
greedy boy munched down himself, and never offered so much as one spice
cake to Merrylips.
Perhaps he hoped that she would ask for a share of the luncheon, but
in that case he was disappointed. Merrylips was hungry indeed, after
the long walk in the autumn air, but she would have starved before she
would have begged of Herbert.
She went a little way off, but only a little way, for she could not
help hoping that he might offer her some of the food. She sat down on
the edge of the brook and flung clods of dirt into the water. She sang,
too, because she wished Herbert to think that she did not care at all,
but out of the corner of her eye she watched the chicken pasty and the
cheese and the spice cakes till the last crumb was gone.
Then Merrylips lay down and drank from the brook, for she saw that
a drink of water was all the luncheon that she was to have. As she
leaned over the brook, the silver ring that hung about her neck slipped
from the bosom of her gown and swung at the end of the cord on which
she wore it.
"What's that?" said Herbert.
He too had come to the edge of the brook to drink, and he stood near
Merrylips.
"Let me look upon it, Sybil."
"Go finish your dinner!" Merrylips answered as she put the ring back
within her gown.
Her tone angered Herbert even more than her words.
"You show me that as I bid you!" he cried. "How dare you disobey me?
You're going to be my wife some day--father saith so--and then I'll
learn you! Now you show me that silver thing, mistress, or I'll beat
you!"
"Try it!" flashed Merrylips.
But for all her brave words, she did not wish to fight with Herbert.
She felt too tired and hungry to fight, and besides, if she beat
Herbert, she knew that she should be punished for it by Mistress Lowry.
So when Herbert put out his hand to seize her, she dodged him and took
to her heels through the wood. She knew that she could outrun him.
She heard him crashing among the bushes behind her. She felt the sting
of the bare branches that whipped her face as she ran. Blindly she
sped along till right at her feet she saw the ground open where a
sunken bridle-path ran between steep banks. Far off on the path she
heard, as something that did not concern her, like a sound in a dream,
a muffled padding of horse-hoofs.
Panting and spent, she jumped down the bank into the path, and as
she did so, she caught her skirt on a prickly bush of holly. She was
brought to her knees by the sudden jerk, and before she could free her
skirt and rise she felt Herbert's grasp close on her arm.
"You jade! I'll learn you now!" Herbert cried.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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