* * * * *
Mr. Peverell in a spring cart from the nearest station brought Mary to Yarningdale Farm. She had no need to touch Henley-in-Arden. There was no likelihood that whilst there she would ever come across her friends. They had walked many miles that day. It was the highest improbability they would ever walk that way again; and certainly not to visit the farm.
"It happen be a quiet day," he said as he gathered up the reins, "or I couldn't have come for 'ee with the spring cart. No--I couldn't have come for 'ee with the spring cart if it didn't happen to be a quiet day. I got the machine ready last night and we be cuttin' hay to-morrow."
Cutting hay!
"May I help?" she asked with an impulsive eagerness. He looked down at her on the lower seat beside him and his eyes were twinkling with a kindly amusement.
"'Ee can help," said he, "but hay-makin' ain't 'helpin'--it's work. When they cut the grass over at Stapeley--Lord Orford's place there over--there's some of the ladies puts on them dimity-like sunbonnets and come and help. But then you see there's plenty to do the work." His eyes twinkled again. "We've only got hundred and thirteen acres and there's me and the carter and a boy. My missis comes out. So does the carter's wife. But 'tain't helpin'. 'Tis work. We can't 'ford amusements like helpin' each other. We have to work--if you understand what I mean."
"But I mean that too," she said quickly. "I meant to work. Of course I don't know anything about it; but couldn't I really do something?"
"We'll be beginning half-past five to-morrow morning," he said and she felt he was chuckling in his heart. She felt that all who did not know the land as he knew it were mere children to him.
"Can't I get up at half-past five?" she asked.
"Can 'ee?"