But presently, when she returned, there was no grime upon her hands. She was dainty and smiling.
"You got nize day?" she asked, with her head coyly down. She knew he had not. And she purposely quoted her sister.
"No," he said savagely. "I 'm glad it 's over."
The flame was in her face again. But she kept it down.
"I thing Black-Eyes ver' be-witch-ing."
"But she is not—you," he said.
She looked slowly up. The little weariness which had been limned upon her face by the day's drudgery was gone, and in its stead was a vague glory reflected from within.
"How that is nize," she whispered—"for me!"
"For me," said Garland, approaching her threateningly. She did not retreat. She subsided a little toward him—just a little—that he might know she would never retreat from him. Her eyes smiled confidently.
He stopped where he was.
"Who is to be chatelaine to-morrow?"
"What is that chat—?" she asked.
"Who is to keep the house?"
