"
She smiled, with her characteristic touch of chagrin. I liked her best
so, for she never looked daintier. "With a bit of luck, Master Wheatman,"
she said whimsically, "there will surely come a time when you'll be wrong
and I right. Then, sir, look out for crowing. I've never been so unlucky
with a man in my life. But you'll slip some day!"
"Surely, madam," I said, and smiled, "and then I'll abide your gloating.
Now, pray you, let us be off. We've hardly a minute to spare."
Without losing another second we started on our long walk. It was now
about ten of the clock. The sun was shining cheerily, with power enough to
melt the white rime off every blackened twig it lit upon, and it was still
so cold that sharp walking was a keen delight.
"Eight miles and more of it, Mistress Waynflete. I hope you can stand the
pace and the distance."
"I'm a soldier's daughter, not an alderman's," she replied curtly.
The vicar was right. "Oliver," he said to me one day, "what is the
difference between the Hebrew Bible and a woman?"
"Sir," said I, gaping with astonishment, "I know not, but of a truth it
seems considerable.
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