"She does her work," answered the bailiff. "I don't know if she's pleasant-spoken. I never speak to her."
"That's not the way to get the best out of a woman," laughed the squire. "We poor bachelors need something more than bare duty out of our servants." He said it merrily, and yet I did not think he was merry.
"I want no more than duty," repeated Harrod. "Talking, unless you have something to say, is waste of time."
"You'll have to mend your manners, my lad, if ever you hope to persuade any young lady to become your wife," laughed the squire again.
"I never should hope to do any such thing," answered Harrod. "I shouldn't be such a fool." And with that he walked away out of the farm-yard and began untying the cart for the homeward journey.
Mother looked after him, puzzled for a moment. Then, nodding her head at the squire, she said, softly: "Ah, that's what all you young men say till you've fixed on the girl you want. You're none so backward then."
I fancied the squire looked a little uncomfortable, but he said, lightly: "Do you think not, Mrs. Maliphant? Well, nothing venture, nothing have, they say. Harrod has had his fingers burned, I suppose. A bit sore on the subject, but he'll get over it. He's a nice lad; though, to take his word for it, his wife wouldn't have a very cheerful life of it!"
"Well, we needn't take his word for it," said mother. "And, good gracious me! it's fools indeed that would want to wed upon nothing but sugar. There'd be no grit in love at all if we hadn't some duties towards one another that weren't all pleasant. 'Tis in the doing of them that love grows stronger. I've always thought you can't smell the best of roses till you get near enough to feel the thorns."
This speech of mother's comes back to me vividly now, but at the time I was scarcely conscious of it.
Trayton Harrod's words—"I shouldn't be such a fool"—were ringing in my ears. What did he mean by them? I looked round after him and saw that my sister had strolled across to where he was waiting by the cart. It was natural enough—it was time to be getting homeward. But as I looked I saw him bend towards her just a little and say something. The expression of his face had softened again, and the scowl on his sunburnt brow had faded, but his lips were pressed together so that they were quite thin instead of full, as they appeared in their normal shape; and I wondered why he looked so, and why what he said made the blush, that was now so much rarer than it used to be, creep up Joyce's cheek till it overspread her fair brow and tipped her delicate little ears with red.