“Five shillings?”
He shook his head again. “Money won’t do it,” he said, brushing the
iron head of the firedog with the hollow of his hand.
“What will, then, Charley?” said Eustacia in a disappointed tone.
“You know what you forbade me at the Maypoling, miss,” murmured the
lad, without looking at her, and still stroking the firedog’s head.
“Yes,” said Eustacia, with a little more hauteur. “You wanted to join
hands with me in the ring, if I recollect?”
“Half an hour of that, and I’ll agree, miss.”
Eustacia regarded the youth steadfastly. He was three years younger
than herself, but apparently not backward for his age. “Half an hour of
what?” she said, though she guessed what.
“Holding your hand in mine.”