George picked up his coat and helped him into it; saying:
“You may take a chill.”
“It’s a jolly nice form of exercise,” said he.
George, who had been feeling one finger tip, now took out his pen-knife and proceeded to dig a thorn from his hand.
“What a hide you must have,” said Leslie.
Lettie said nothing, but she recoiled slightly.
The father, glad of an excuse to straighten his back and to chat, came to us.
“You’d soon had enough,” he said, laughing to Leslie.
George startled us with a sudden, “Holloa.” We turned, and saw a rabbit, which had burst from the corn, go coursing through the hedge, dodging and bounding the sheaves. The standing corn was a patch along the hill-side some fifty paces in length, and ten or so in width.
“I didn’t think there’d have been any in,” said the father, picking up a short rake, and going to the low wall of the corn. We all followed.