Mandy, freckled, long-legged, and tow-headed, balanced herself easily
upon one ill-shod foot and rubbed herself softly with the other. The
action to those who knew her ways denoted mental perplexity and
embarrassment. This assignation was bristling with peril as well as
charm. Her grandfather had the eyes of a turkey-buzzard, eyes which
she contrasted involuntarily with the soft, kindly orbs now bent upon
her. She decided instantly that blue was a prettier colour than
yellow. Rinaldo's skin, too, commended itself. She had never seen so
white a forehead, such ruddy cheeks. David, she reflected, must have
been such a man; but Rinaldo was a nicer name than David, ever so much
nicer.
"Shakespeare never repeats," observed Mr. Roberts, "but I'll tell ye
again, Mandy, that I like ye awful well."
"Pshaw!" she replied.
"Honest, Mandy, I ain't lyin'."
He smoothed his hair, well oiled by the barber an hour before, wiped
his hand upon his brown overalls, and laughed. The overalls were worn
so as to expose four inches of black trouser.
"Ye think more of your sorrel than ye do of me, Nal."
"I do?"
"Yes, indeed, you do.
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