"Hold your own tongue, if that's what you think!"
"Be quiet, be quiet, my honey!" the mother joined in, heaving a deep sigh. The old woman was evidently afraid of irritating the miller; it was clear she could not pay him now that her time was up.
"I won't be quiet, mother, I won't, I won't!" answered the girl, as if all the wheels in her mill had begun turning again. "I won't be quiet; and if you want to know, I'm going to scratch out his eyes so that he won't dare to get me gossiped about for nothing, and come knocking at my window and kissing me! Tell me what you meant by knocking, or I'll catch you by the top-knot without stopping to ask if you are a miller and a rich man or not. You never used to be proud like that; you came courting me yourself and pouring out tender words. But now you hold your nose so high that your hat won't stay on your head!"
"Oi, honey, honey, do be quiet, my poor dear little orphan!" begged the old woman with another grievous sigh. "And you, Mr. Miller, don't think ill of the poor silly girl. Young hearts and young wisdom are mates; they are like new beer in a ferment. They boil and foam, but if you will let them stand awhile they will grow sweet to a man's taste."
"What do I care?" answered the miller. "I don't ask for either bitter or sweet from her, because you are not my equals, either of you. Give me the
