"If I may make bold to say so, Miss Rhoda, those feathers in your beautiful hat beat anything I've ever seen," declared Mr. Crocker.
"'Tis a foreign bird what used to be in a case," answered she. "The mould was getting over it, so I thought I'd use its wings for my hat afore they went to pieces."
"A very witty idea. And what might the bird be?"
"Couldn't tell you."
"I wonder, now, supposing I was to shoot a kingfisher, if you'd like him to put in your hat when this here bird be done for?"
"No, thank you."
"If she wants a kingfisher, I can get her one," said David.
Bartley tried again.
"I hear that yellow-bearded chap, the leat man, Simon Snell, be taking up with your Dorcas. That's great news, I do declare, if 'tis true."
A very faint tinge of colour touched Rhoda's cheeks.