"There now, that's better. Did the big strange gentleman try to
frighten her? Poor little maid!"
"I assure you," said Mr. Fogo, "I tried to do nothing of the kind."
Tamsin paid no attention.
"There now, we're as good as gold again, and can run along home.
Give me a kiss first, that's a dear."
The little maid, still sobbing fitfully, gave the kiss, picked up her
satchel, and toddled off, leaving Tamsin and Mr. Fogo face to face.
"Why did you frighten her?" the girl asked severely. There was an
angry flush on her cheek.
"I did not intentionally. It was the alarum. First of all I was
chased by a bull, and then--" Mr. Fogo told his story incoherently.
The angry red left Tamsin's cheek, and a look of disdain succeeded.
"And you," she said very slowly, when he had finished, "think you are
able to despise womankind."
It was Mr. Fogo's turn to grow red.
"And to put up a board," she continued, "with that silly Notice upon
it--you and that great baby Caleb Trotter--setting all women at
naught, when you never ought to be beyond tether of their
apron-strings. Why, only this morning you'd have caught a sun-stroke
if I hadn't spread your umbrella over you."
"Did you do that?"
"And who else do you suppose? A man, perhaps? Why, there isn't a
man in the world would have had the sense--'less it was Peter or
Paul," she added, with a sudden softening of voice, "and they're
women in everything but strength.
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