A little heap of coke and sticks lay ready in the recess to light a fire on which to make some tea, as one or two of the party were temperance men. The basket was quickly emptied and the contents served out: the lad who had brought it had seated himself on the lorry and kept his face turned away, that he might not seem to be wishing for some of the food. The wind swept through the cutting, and he shivered; he was decently dressed, but by no means warmly.
"Come in and sit in the shelter," said Avery, "the wind there is enough to cut you in two."
"Thank you," the boy said, and came in among them, seating himself with his back to the bank.
"Look ye, mate, are ye hungry?"
It was the surly-looking man who spoke. The boy's involuntary glance at the bread and meat answered the question more truly than his tongue did.
"Thank you, sir, I'll do very well."
"Ye know ye're hungry," said the man in a half-angry voice.
"Well, when I'm rested a bit, I'll go back to the village and buy bread."
"Too proud to take a bite with us," was the next remark, in a deep growl.
"Faith, the more fool he!" said Deasy.