"Come in here a minute," he said, "afore we go on, Madge. I want--I want--"
She turned and they disappeared.
"I want to kiss you," he said.
A fearful clatter ascended from long-legged fowls roosting on the cart, for their repose was roughly broken. They clucked and cried until Mrs. Stanbury, supposing a fox had descended from the lulls, hastened out to frighten it away.
Then she met Margaret and David--shame-faced, joyous.
"We'm tokened, mother!" cried the man; "and please God, I'll be a dutiful second son to you."
"Thank you for that," she said. "Give you joy, I'm sure. And I'll be proud to have you for a son; and may you never repent your bargain."
She put up her face to his and kissed him; and since he still held Madge by the waist, all three were thus, for an instant, united in a triple caress.
By chance some moments of happy magic in the sky smiled upon this incident, for the grey west broke at its heart above the horizon and little orange feathers of light flashed suddenly along the upper chambers of the air. The Hesperides--daughters of sunset--danced golden-footed on the threshold of evening, and their glimmering skirts swept earth also, set radiance upon Eylesbarrow and hung like a beacon of fire against the deep storm-purple of the east. Thrice this glory waxed and waned; then all light vanished; the colour song was sung; the day died.
Not observing these gracious phenomena upon Night's fringes, the mother, the man and his maiden went in together.