'Come, Milly, _I'll_ go if _you_ don't,' I said.
'But we must not be beat,' whispered she, vehemently, catching my arm; 'and
ye _shall_ get over, and _see_ what I will gi' her!'
'I'll _not_ get over.'
'Then I'll break the door, for ye _shall_ come through,' exclaimed Milly,
kicking the stout paling with her ponderous boot.
'Purr it, purr it, purr it!' cried the lass in the red petticoat with a
grin.
'Do you know who this lady is?' cried Milly, suddenly.
'She is a prettier lass than thou,' answered Beauty.
'She's _my_ cousin Maud--Miss Ruthyn of Knowl--and she's a deal richer than
the Queen; and the Governor's taking care of her; and he'll make old Pegtop
bring you to reason.'
The girl eyed me with a sulky listlessness, a little inquisitively, I
thought.
'See if he don't,' threatened Milly.
'You positively _must_ come,' I said, drawing her away with me.
'Well, shall we come in?' cried Milly, trying a last summons.
'You'll not come in that much,' she answered, surlily, measuring an
infinitesimal distance on her finger with her thumb, which she pinched
against it, the gesture ending with a snap of defiance, and a smile that
showed her fine teeth.
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