But David now decided that the time was come for firmness.
"Listen to me, Missy; I'm not going to have any more to say to you unless you come inside at once!"
"But what if I'm not never coming inside--never no more?"
There was that within the words which made David pause to consider. At length he said: "Very well, then, come into the verandah and we'll have a sensible talk here, and I won't force you into the house; though where else you're to go I don't quite see. However, come here, and I won't insist on your coming a step further."
"I don't understand you, Missy; but I meant what I said."
"Then I'm coming. One moment, though! Is anybody about? Is Mrs. Teesdale in the house?"
"No, she's gone to chapel. So has Arabella, and John William's milking. They'll none of 'em be back just yet. Ah, that's better, my dear girl, that's better!"
Missy was back in her old wooden chair. Mr. Teesdale sat down again in its fellow and put his hand affectionately upon the girl's shoulder.
"So you mean to tell me your hairs didn't stand on end!" said Missy, in a little whisper that was as unnecessary as it was fascinating just then.
"I haven't got much to boast of," answered the old man cheerily; "but what hair I have didn't do any such thing, Missy."
"Now just you think what you're saying," pursued the girl, with an air as of counsel cautioning a witness. "You tell me I neither sickened you, nor disgusted you, nor choked you off for good and all with that song and dance I gave you this afternoon. Your hairs didn't stand on end, and I didn't even make you perspire--so you say! But do you really mean me to believe you?"
"Why, bless the child! To be sure--to be sure!"
"Then, Mr. Teesdale, I must ask you whether you're in the habit of telling lies."
David opened his mouth to answer very promptly indeed, but kept it open without answering at all at the moment. He had remembered something that sent his left thumb and forefinger of their own accord into an empty waistcoat pocket. "No," said he presently with a sigh, "I'm not exactly in the habit of saying what isn't true."
"I have done it, God forgive me! But who has not?"
"Not me," cried Missy candidly. "There's not a bigger liar in this world than me! I'm going to tell you about that directly. I'm so glad you've told a lie or two yourself--it gives me such a leg-up--though I never should have thought it of you, Mr. Teesdale. I've told hundreds since I've known you. Have you told any since you've known me?"