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"I don't know I don't know," murmured Retty Priddle. "I want to hate 'ee; but I cannot!" "That's how I feel," echoed Izz and Marian. "I can't hate her. Somehow she hinders me!" "He ought to marry one of you," murmured Tess. "Why?" "You are all better than I." "We better than you?" said the girls in a low, slow whisper. "No, no, dear Tess!" "You are!" she contradicted impetuously.
Madge Waters, Mrs. Laura James, Vida James, Mrs. E. C. Priddle, Miss Linda Rhodes; corresponding secretaries: Miss Lucinda Lake, Mrs. Margaret Geddes, Mrs. Emma Geddes, Miss Lena Newman, Mrs. B. Ostrander, Mrs. Nellie K. Donaldson; recording secretaries: Miss Marion W. Hamilton, Miss Emma Graham, Mrs. Ethel Irish, Miss W. von Bruenchenhein; treasurers: Mrs. Dora Putnam, Mrs. Lydia Woodward, Mrs.
Dairyman Crick and his wife, the milkmaids Tess, Marian, Retty Priddle, Izz Huett, and the married ones from the cottages; also Mr Clare, Jonathan Kail, old Deborah, and the rest, stood gazing hopelessly at the churn; and the boy who kept the horse going outside put on moon-like eyes to show his sense of the situation.
"'Tis no use for you to be in love with him any more than me, Retty Priddle," said jolly-faced Marian, the eldest, slily. "His thoughts be of other cheeks than thine!" Retty Priddle still looked, and the others looked again. "There he is again!" cried Izz Huett, the pale girl with dark damp hair and keenly cut lips. "You needn't say anything, Izz," answered Retty.
"Dear me; what " "Well, some says it do mane one thing, and some another; but what's happened is that poor little Retty Priddle hev tried to drown herself." "No! Really! Why, she bade us goodbye with the rest " "Yes.
But the unconscious Mr Clare had gone indoors, and they saw him no more; and, the shades beginning to deepen, they crept into their beds. In a few minutes they heard him ascend the ladder to his own room. Marian was soon snoring, but Izz did not drop into forgetfulness for a long time. Retty Priddle cried herself to sleep. The deeper-passioned Tess was very far from sleeping even then.
Why, our little Retty Priddle here, you know, is one of the Paridelles the old family that used to own lots o' the lands out by King's Hintock, now owned by the Earl o' Wessex, afore even he or his was heard of. Well, Mr Clare found this out, and spoke quite scornful to the poor girl for days. 'Ah! he says to her, 'you'll never make a good dairymaid!
Somebody in bed hard by sighed too. Tears came into the eyes of Retty Priddle, the pretty red-haired youngest the last bud of the Paridelles, so important in the county annals. They watched silently a little longer, their three faces still close together as before, and the triple hues of their hair mingling.
"They skim better than I." "Do they?" Clare remained observing them not without their observing him. "She is colouring up," continued Tess heroically. "Who?" "Retty Priddle." "Oh! Why it that?" "Because you are looking at her."
As they drove on she fixed her eyes upon her mother and said, 'There, I have done it now! Her pale face was stormy, and her eyes full of waiting tears. 'What have you done? said Mrs. Dornell. 'Nanny Priddle is sick of the smallpox, and I saw her at the window, and I went in and kissed her, so that I might take it; and now I shall have it, and he won't be able to come near me!
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