She would not meet his glance. "Why should I summon you?"
"Oh, that's for you to know. As we lay in the bean-field—the Prince, and father and I—you came and whispered."
"I travelled far, then, and must have galloped home at speed."
Old Waddilove, who knew his world, moved down the passage noisily. "For my part," he said, talking to himself, and thinking he only murmured, "I allus said like mun wed like, choose what pranks come between. They're fratching already, and that's a good sign. A varry good sign. There was niver two folks fit for wedlock till they've learned how to fratch. It clears their heads o' whimsies."
The draughty passage seemed full of Ben's philosophy. They could hear nothing else, except the steady swish of thunder-rain outside. And Joan laughed, because she could not help it.
There was no concealment then. Laughter opens more doors than the high gravity that lover-folk affect.
"My dear, you know that you came," said Kit.
"I know that I lay awake, sick with terror for you. I saw you fighting—oh, so gallantly—saw Rupert steal, a broken man, into a field of flowering beans, with only the Squire and you to guard him. And then I fell asleep—as if the bean-scent had stifled me, too—and I dreamed——"
"Well, Joan?"
"That you were hindered, somehow. That you came to great honour and forgot me."