“What a chap for killing you are,” said Jordan, while Ned dragged a partridge from his pocket and handed it to his wife.
Nobody loved nice things better than she, but she took the bird pensively and stroked its grey and russet feathers.
“Poor little bird, your troubles are ended,” she said. Then she assumed a cheerful air, which struck Jordan as unspeakably pathetic.
“I’ve been busy, too. Look at my blackberries.”
Ned praised the blackberries, and in his usual impulsive fashion offered Kellock the hare; but Jordan declined it.
“Thrown away upon me,” he said.
“Come and help us to eat it one night then,” suggested Dingle, and Medora echoed his wish.
“I’m sure you’re very kind. I’ll come up to supper any evening, if you mean it.”
Then he mounted his bicycle and rode off down the hill.
“He came along from Totnes, while Daisy and I were picking blackberries, and he stopped and would carry my basket for me,” she explained.