“Jervis, you haven’t been in the hay-field?” said Marian.
“Yes. It wasn’t wise. Never mind.”
Jervis sat down, leaning forward, and not speaking. Marian gave him a glance or two of sympathy, but kept silence until he seemed more comfortable.
“I wish you could get rid of that tiresome asthma,” she said.
“Not likely. It seems tied to me—most likely for life,” Jervis answered cheerfully. “There, I’m better now. I’d no business to go near the hay.”
“Farming doesn’t suit you,” said Marian.
“I’d give it up gladly, and do anything else, if father was willing. But I don’t like to go against him now, after all the trouble he has had. And so long as he can see to everything it doesn’t much matter that I can’t. I don’t know how things will be by-and-by.”
“We haven’t got to settle now for by-and-by,” Marian observed placidly.
She darned on for a while, saying no more, and too much wrapped up in her own thoughts to be conscious of her brother’s steady observation.
“Polly, are you thinking about your child?” he asked.