"Very well," he replied with an embarrassed laugh, and carefully wiped his grimy fingers on his leather apron before taking my hand.
"Help me lift the lady into the carriage," said my brother.
He wiped his hands again, and caught hold of me--none too gently--under the armpits, and the two of them, my brother taking me by my feet, lifted me up on to the carriage cushions.
"Thanks, thanks," I said and gave him a smile.
He stood at the carriage door, shyly twisting his cap and looking from one to the other of us uncertainly.
"He still has something on his heart," I said to myself. "Why not? At the sight of me old memories have been awakened. He wants to talk to me of the blissful days when in childish innocence we watched the geese together. Ah, he doesn't trust himself--his lord's presence--I ought to come to his assistance a little."
"Well," I said, giving him a friendly, encouraging look straight in his eyes, "what are you thinking of?"
My brother at this turned from his horses, with which he had been busy, and said, thrusting his hand into his pocket:
"Oh, you're waiting for your tip."
I felt as though some one had struck me in the face.