her hands. M'Turk kissed her. Beetle followed suit, with exemplary calm. Both boys were promptly cuffed.
'Niver kiss the maid when 'e can kiss the mistress,' said Stalky, shamelessly winking at Mother Yeo, as he investigated a shelf of jams.
''Glad to see one of 'ee don't want his head slapped no more?' said Mary invitingly, in that direction.
'Neu! 'Reckon I can get 'em give me,' said Stalky, his back turned.
'Not by me—yeou little masterpiece!'
'Niver asked 'ee. There's maids to Northam. Yiss—an' Appledore.' An unreproducible sniff, half contempt, half reminiscence, rounded the retort.
'Aie! Yeou won't niver come to no good end. Whutt be 'baout, smellin' the cream?'
''Tees bad,' said Stalky. 'Zmell 'un.'
Incautiously Mary did as she was bid.
'Bidevoor kiss.'
'Niver amiss,' said Stalky, taking it without injury.
'Yeou—yeou—yeou' Mary began, bubbling with mirth.
'They'm better to Northam—more rich, laike—an' us gets them give back again,' he said, while M'Turk solemnly waltzed Mother Yeo out of breath, and Beetle told Mary the sad news, as they sat down to clotted cream, jam, and hot bread.
'Yiss. Yeou'll niver zee us no more, Mary. We'm goin' to be passons an' missioners.'
