"Silver!" she exclaimed.
"Ay, ay," said Diggory, grinning, and jingling the bag, "and there be
plenty more where that came from."
"It is the price of Master Edmund's blood."
"Don't ye say that now, Deb; 'tis all for you!" he answered, thinking
he was prevailing because she was less violent, too stupid to
perceive the difference between her real indignation and perpetual
scolding.
"So you still have the face to tell me so!" she burst out, still more
vehemently. "I tell you, I'd rather serve my lady and Mistress Rose,
if they had not a crust to give me, than roll in gold with a rogue
like you. Get along with you, and best get out of the county, for
not a boy in Dorset but will cry shame on you."
"But Deb, Deb," he still pleaded.
"You will have it, then!" And dealing him a hearty box on the ear,
away ran Deborah. Down fell bag, money, and all, and Diggory stood
gaping and astounded for a moment, then proceeded to grope after the
coins on his hands and knees.
Suddenly a voice exclaimed, "How now, knave, stealing thy mistress's
goods?" and a tall, grim, steeple-hatted figure, armed with a
formidable halberd, stood over him.
"Good master corporal," he began, trembling; but the soldier would
not hear him.
"Away with thee, son of iniquity or I will straightway lay mine
halberd about thine ears.
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