"Anything else, missis?"
She had watched him unseeingly, but with a growing sense of comfort. "I'm in better 'eart now you've helped me so." She would have this young man at hand to help her in all her future difficulties and the thought was reassuring. "'Tis near time for 'ee to be goin' into Stowe. Gray's all but ready."
As if she had been called, the girl opened the door of the linhay. At sight of Jim, a sight by no means unexpected, her pale-tinted face bloomed like an opening rose.
"Good mornin', Jim. You're late." If only he had come one little half-hour sooner!
He was looking spruce in clean shirt and new tie, a fresh smooth-skinned youngster. "Well, my dear," he said awkwardly, "I 'ad a lot to do this mornin' before I could come away."
"Jim 'ad to put 'is best bib and tucker on," said Mrs. Byron. Her interest in these opening lives helped her to push her anxieties into the background. Never one to nurse a grief, she smiled at the boy and girl, glad to be looking at a morning face.
"I'd thought," said Gray, and in her voice was a regret he could not fathom, "you'd be earlier, so as to take the chickens and eggs."
"Well, to tell 'ee the truth," the young man threw himself on her mercy, "I went down in the orchard to see if I could find a few vi'lets for yer. I want yer to look vitty to-day." He stepped back into the porch, returning with a little posy. In the West, flowers bloom the year round, and these were scented violets.
"Oh, Jim," said the girl, taking them—and could say no more. The violets were a charming thought; but if he had only known what hung on his keeping to the arrangement he had made with her the previous day, to come to the linhay after breakfast!
"Your uncle wants to go in with yer," said Mrs. Byron, making an effort to speak of the matter with her customary cheerfulness, "but I bain't goin' to let'n go." She was rewarded by a grateful glance from Gray, a glance which laid for all time the incipient doubts of a natural jealousy. "Now Jim, by the time you've tackled up Lady, Gray'll be ready. My dear," she turned to the girl, standing dreamily by the table, the violets in her hand, "'av you finished the butter?"