"Tut!" said the old man curtly. "Here she comes. Now, what are you going to do?"
Without waiting for an answer, he bent his gaze on the float again, and kept it fastened there, as a pretty shop-girl came strolling along the river path. She had taken off her hat, of broad-brimmed straw with artificial poppies and cornflowers, and swung it in her hand as she came. Her eyes roamed the landscape carelessly, avoiding only that particular spot where the corporal, as she approached, scrambled to his feet; then, her start of surprise was admirable.
"Oh, it's you! Good-evening."
"Good-evening, miss."
"Why, whoever—! It seems to me you spend most of your time fishing."
She paused, gathering in her skirt a little—and this obviously was the cue for a gallant soldier. The corporal began, indeed, to wind up his line, but with a foolish grin and a glance at Rosewarne's back.
"It keeps beautiful weather," he answered at length.
"I call it sultry." She held out her hat with a little deprecating laugh. "I took it off for the sake of fresh air," she explained. Then, as he stood stock-still, a flush crept up her cheek to her pretty forehead.
"Well, good-evening; I won't interrupt you by talking," she said, and began to move away.
Come to think of it, it do look like thunder, "the corporal remarked to Rosewarne, staring after her and then up at the sky.