He followed her to her side of the dairy.

'I've but a short memory, can yo' not show me again how t' hold t' strainer ?' 'No,' said she, half laughing, but holding her strainer fast in spite of his insinuating efforts to unlock her fingers.

'But there's no need to tell me yo've getten a short memory.' 'Why?
what have I done?
how dun you know it ?' 'Last night,' she began, and then she stopped, and turned away her head, pretending to be busy in her dairy duties of rinsing and such like.
'Well!' said he, half conjecturing her meaning, and flattered by it, if his conjecture were right.

'Last night--what ?' 'Oh, yo' know!' said she, as if impatient at being both literally and metaphorically followed about, and driven into a corner.
'No; tell me,' persisted he.
'Well,' said she, 'if yo' will have it, I think yo' showed yo'd but a short memory when yo' didn't know me again, and yo' were five times at this house last winter, and that's not so long sin'.

But I suppose yo' see a vast o' things on yo'r voyages by land or by sea, and then it's but natural yo' should forget.' She wished she could go on talking, but could not think of anything more to say just then; for, in the middle of her sentence, the flattering interpretation he might put upon her words, on her knowing so exactly the number of times he had been to Haytersbank, flashed upon her, and she wanted to lead the conversation a little farther afield--to make it a little less personal.