"No use for them either. I'm under the weather a bit. Come in and have a tell. There's nobody home but me."
Their acquaintance had ripened a little, for Dinah came to Falcon Farm sometimes with messages. Lawrence admired Dinah's straightforward mind, but was puzzled at some things about her; while she, inspired by her step-father's opinion, that the man had some hidden grievance against life, found him interesting. She did not think he had a grievance, for he was not particularly gloomy with her or anybody else; but she had found him reticent concerning himself and he never spoke about his own experiences, or earlier existence, though she had invited him to do so.
"Where's Johnny?" asked the visitor.
"Fairing—or so he said; but if truth's known I expect he's to work. He often gives out he's away when he isn't. He's catched a chap once or twice like that."
"Ah! He knows his business. I expect he's down on the water somewhere. I should have guessed, now, you would have been up to his plans and going to take him his dinner by the river presently."
Dinah was rather aghast at this pleasantry. It argued an intimate knowledge of lovers' ways on the part of the other.
"You might think so," she said. "And often I have for that matter. But we're out—my fault, too."
"Never!"
"Yes—and that's why I say I'm under the weather."
"Well, Miss Susan wants Mrs. Bamsey to lend her the cheese press. We're going to have a try at cheese-making. Mr. Stockman's got an idea the thing be well worth trying; and Miss Susan wants to come over and have a tell about it and learn Mrs. Bamsey's wisdom. And the clutch of chickens be ready for you."