'No--a, Beauty; it baint,' replied the girl, loweringly, and without
stirring.

'And what's gone with the stile?' demanded Milly, aghast. 'It's tore away
from the paling!'

'Well, so it be,' replied the wood nymph in the red petticoat, showing her
fine teeth with a lazy grin.

'Who's a bin and done all that?' demanded Milly.

'Not you nor me, lass,' said the girl.

''Twas old Pegtop, your father, did it,' cried Milly, in rising wrath.

''Appen it wor,' she replied.

'And the gate locked.'

'That's it--the gate locked,' she repeated, sulkily, with a defiant
side-glance at Milly.

'And where's Pegtop?'

'At t'other side, somewhere; how should I know where he be?' she replied.

'Who's got the key?'

'Here it be, lass,' she answered, striking her hand on her pocket. 'And how