It seemed strange to her that Mr. Scales should be a Wesleyan—just like herself. She would have been sure that he was ‘Church.’ Her notions of Wesleyanism, with her notions of various other things, were sharply modified.
“Now tell me about you,” Mr. Scales suggested.
“Oh! I’m nothing!” she burst out.
The exclamation was perfectly sincere. Mr. Scales’s disclosures concerning himself, while they excited her, discouraged her.
“You’re the finest girl I’ve ever met, anyhow,” said Mr. Scales with gallant emphasis, and he dug his stick into the soft ground.
She blushed and made no answer.
They walked on in silence, each wondering apprehensively what might happen next.
Suddenly Mr. Scales stopped at a dilapidated low brick wall, built in a circle, close to the side of the road.
“I expect that’s an old pit-shaft,” said he.
“Yes, I expect it is.”