tten to you, nor sent a sign nor nothing?
MILLIE. Your brother Giles was never very grand with the pen, Annet. But, O, he's none the worse for that.
ANNET. Millie, I never cared for to question you, but how was it when you and he did part, one with t'other?
MILLIE. I did give him my ring, Annet--secret like--when we were walking in the wood.
ANNET. What, the one with the white stones to it?
MILLIE. Yes, grandmother's ring, that she left me. And I did say to him--if ever I do turn false to you and am like to wed another, Giles--look you at these white stones.
ANNET. Seven of them, there were, Millie.
MILLIE. And the day that I am like to wed another, Giles, I said to him, the stones shall darken. But you'll never see that day. [She begins to cry.
ANNET. Don't you give way, Millie, for, look you, 'tis very likely that Giles has forgotten you for all his fine words, and Andrew,-- well, Andrew he's as grand a suitor as ever maid had. And 'tis Andrew you have got to wed, you kno