Galloping Dick
“What a lover you make!” she cried, very well pleased, as I could see.
“Nay, rather,” says I, “what a husband!”
“Husband!” says she, with a yawn, “Troth, ’tis a silly word.”
“’Twas you as spoke it last night,” said I bluntly.
“O foh!” says she, “you have a most distressing memory, Ryder.”
But I was not to be put off like that, and, having now the fit upon me, I plunged pretty deep into my affections. I wager I gave her as good a story as any of the water-blooded ninnies of the Town, and I vow, too, that she took it with a rare relish. For she seemed vastly delighted, and she says, sighing, “How you woo, Ryder!” she says. “O my poor Ryder, how you must ha’ suffered! Lord, you would believe I was a chit in my teens, like sis, there.”
“As for teens,” says I, “you and me are gotten beyond. I would not have a slip like that for a king’s ransom. Give me a fine stark woman with two valiant and artful eyes in her.”
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