THE GAMEKEEPER'S DAUGHTER
"You can just hand me over that pheasant. Ah ! it's you, is it ? I know you, Tom Grollins, and I'll report you to the gamekeeper."
The poacher gazed at her stupidly for a moment. " Give you the blessed bird and be reported too, Missy ? Come, that ain't 'ardly fair, is it ? ( Will yer lie down, Muffins ?) Now look 'ere. If I give yer the bird, will y'promise not to say a word as it was Tom Grollins—on yer davey, now? Will y'promise, Missy ?"
She nodded. Tom Grollins was not very strong of intellect, and he was a known coward, and as the sound of a carriage was heard close by, the bargain was hastily concluded ; the pheasant was handed over without further parley on the undertaking of the promise—" No names."
The promise, of course, Nancy faithfully kept when she delivered to her father the bird she had demanded with such pluck and authority, and told him how she had got it. The gamekeeper laughed, remarking that he wouldn't press her, but could make a pretty shrewd guess if he chose. However, she was worth her weight in gold, he said, and he patted her on the head for a trump—and Nancy felt uncommonly proud. But she didn't quite understand what he meant when he said that terms such as she had made would not be quite approved of by the Lord Chancellor.