Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/224

216 “Come on—chink!” she cried, “all together—chink to him!”

We four chinked and drank. George poured wine in a tumbler, and drank it off. He was getting excited, and all the energy and passion that normally were bound down by his caution and self-instinct began to flame out.

“Here, aunt!” said he, lifting his tumbler, “here’s to what you want—you know!”

“I knowed tha’ wor as spunky as ony on’em,” she cried. “Tha’ nobbut wanted warmin’ up. I’ll see as you’re all right. It’s a bargain. Chink again, ivrybody.”

“A bargain,” said he before he put his lips to the glass.

“What bargain’s that?” said Meg.

The old lady laughed loudly and winked at George, who, with his lips wet with wine, got up and kissed Meg soundly, saying:

“There it is—that seals it.”

Meg wiped her face with her big pinafore, and seemed uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you comin’, gran’ma?” she pleaded.

“Eh, tha’ wants ter ’orry me off—what’s thai say, George—a deep un, isna ’er?”

“Dunna go, Aunt, dunna be hustled off.”

“Tush—Pish,” snorted the old lady. “Yah, tha’ ’rt a slow un, an’ no mistakes! Get a candle, Meg, I’m ready.”

Meg brought a brass bed-room candlestick. Bill brought in the money in a tin box, and delivered it into the hands of the old lady.

“Go thy ways to bed now, lad,” said she to the