'Come, Milly, _I'll_ go if _you_ don't,' I said.

'But we must not be beat,' whispered she, vehemently, catching my arm; 'and
ye _shall_ get over, and _see_ what I will gi' her!'

'I'll _not_ get over.'

'Then I'll break the door, for ye _shall_ come through,' exclaimed Milly,
kicking the stout paling with her ponderous boot.

'Purr it, purr it, purr it!' cried the lass in the red petticoat with a
grin.

'Do you know who this lady is?' cried Milly, suddenly.

'She is a prettier lass than thou,' answered Beauty.

'She's _my_ cousin Maud--Miss Ruthyn of Knowl--and she's a deal richer than
the Queen; and the Governor's taking care of her; and he'll make old Pegtop
bring you to reason.'

The girl eyed me with a sulky listlessness, a little inquisitively, I
thought.

'See if he don't,' threatened Milly.

'You positively _must_ come,' I said, drawing her away with me.

'Well, shall we come in?' cried Milly, trying a last summons.