Wasn't his figure somehow very familiar—— But no. How could that be?
"Good afternoon," I replied to him in the tone that may be translated, "What do you want now?"
As if in answer, he held out to me the tin pail that he was carrying. With his sweetest smile he barked out, "Rotten careless hen-wife you'd make! I had to bring this along to save Mrs. Price a journey. You forgot the milk to put in the chicks' tins."
"Did I!" I exclaimed, disconcerted. "That was stupid of me!"
"It was," retorted Captain Holiday, still with the smile that might have accompanied the prettiest compliment. Characteristic!
I scarcely looked at him, hoping that he'd go.
He did not. He seemed to expect me to have something to say to him—at all events, he stayed while I filled up those milk pannikins, and followed me round to the other coops.
I said, looking away from him, and with would-be irony:
"You seem as interested in poultry as in the rest of farming."
"Yes," he agreed. "I've always been interested in pottering about with stock of any kind. Always the job I fancied; 'always my delight,' as they say here; so——" He broke off. "What are you looking at?" he asked abruptly. "A penny for your thoughts."