“Go in, Bess,” he shouted, and, shaking her off, he went close up to Geoffrey, who did not give way an inch, but looked full in the fierce, repulsive face thrust close to his, till the old man lowered his eyes, and stepped on one side, muttering angrily.
“Do you always treat strangers like this, Master Prawle?” said Geoffrey, smiling.
“Go away, I tell ye,” said the old man, fiercely. “We want no dealings with the people.”
“Don’t anger father, sir,” said the girl, who, however, seemed to be in no wise put out by the old man’s savage resentment.
“Not I, my girl,” replied Geoffrey; “but what is the matter with your mother?”
“She fell off the cliff one night,” said the girl, quickly.
“Tell him to go, Bess,” growled her father. “We don’t want him here.”
“I asked the gentleman to come, father,” said the girl. Then, turning to Geoffrey, “Thank you kindly, sir. It pleases mother.”
“Don’t name it, my lass,” replied Geoffrey, smiling, and the girl looked at him very fixedly, as she watched every turn in his frank, open face. “Good-day,” he continued. “Good-day, Master Prawle.”
The old man scowled at him by way of reply, and then stood watching him till he had climbed back to the edge of the ravine, where, turning to glance down, Geoffrey saw father and daughter below, the latter returning his salute, as he waved his hand before passing out of their sight.