'Niver's a long word,' said Kester, musingly. 'A could horsewhip him, or cast stones at him, or duck him mysel'; but, lass! niver's a long word!'
'Well! niver heed if it is—it's me as said it, and I'm turned savage late days. Come in, Kester, and see poor mother.'
'A cannot,' said he, turning his wrinkled puckered face away, that she might not see the twitchings of emotion on it. 'There's kine to be fetched up, and what not, and he's theere, isn't he, Sylvie?' facing round upon her with inquisitiveness. Under his peering eyes she reddened a little.
'Yes, if it's Philip thou means; he's been all we've had to look to sin'.' Again the shudder.
'Well, now he'll be seein' after his shop, a reckon?'
Sylvia was calling to the old mare nibbling tufts of early-springing grass here and there, and half unconsciously coaxing the creature to come up to the gate to be stroked. But she heard Kester's words well enough, and so he saw, although she made this excuse not to reply. But Kester was not to be put off.
'Folks is talkin' about thee and him; thou'll ha' to mind lest thee and him gets yo'r names coupled together.'
'It's right down cruel on folks, then,' said she, crimsoning from some emotion. 'As if any man as was a man wouldn't do all he could for two lone women at such a time—and he a cousin, too! Tell me who said so,' continued she, firing round at Kester, 'and I'll niver forgive 'em—that's all.'
'Hoots!' said Kester, a little conscious that he himself was the principal representative of that name of multitude folk. 'Here's a pretty lass; she's' got "a'll niver forgi'e" at her tongue's end wi' a vengeance.'
Sylvia was a little confused.