Gilmore and Macey both saw that their jokes gave annoyance; and, to turn them off, offered to help, Macey immediately taking off his coat, hanging it over the greenhouse door, and seizing the end of a pipe to move it where it was not wanted.
“Don’t be jealous, Bruff,” he cried, as he saw the gardener stare. “I’ll leave a little bit of work for you to do.”
Bruff grinned and scratched his head.
“Oh, if it comes to that, Mester Macey,” he said, “you come here any time, and I’ll give you some sensible work to do, diggin’ or sweeping.”
“I say,” whispered Vane, the next minute, when he had contrived to get Macey alone, “what made you take off your coat?”
“So as to help.”
“No, it wasn’t, or not alone for that. You were thinking about what Distin said about my not being fit to associate with gentlemen.”
Macey flushed a little, like a girl.
“Nonsense!” he said.
“Now, confess. The truth!”