Steve Brown's conversation was largely illumined by the light of his eye; likewise his silences, which were many. They were direct eyes which paid close attention and shot their beams straight as along the barrel of a rifle. The live interest of his look, and the slight but expressive play of his features, made up quite well for the occasional scarcity of words.
"Yes, everything is all ready," she said.
"Well, I won't keep you waiting long."
When he had rid himself of the lambs he strode down the slope to the spring, and presently she heard him "washing up" with more than his usual vigor. Pretty soon he came up and bore a beaming countenance to supper.
Janet, as she poured the coffee and passed the hot bread, gave an account of her day's work, telling first about the orphan and how she managed with him; then she took up the other lambs, consecutively.
"I got four altogether," she ended.
"Oh, you should not have done that."
"No?"
There was mingled surprise and disappointment in her look; but mainly disappointment.
"You could never have handled them that way—if they had been really coming fast. It would take a wagon. There is no use of your working like that."