Alfred stiffened, but he pressed her hand softly.
“It’s like this, Prue. I can’t explain eugannicks to a young maid, rich or pore—see?”
“No, I don’t. S’pose,” she dimpled with mischief, “s’pose you try.”
Alfred’s face brightened. Inspiration illumined it.
“You ask your Uncle Ben. Never so happy he be as when enlightenin’ ignorance.”
She withdrew her hand.
“Ignorance? Thank you. I will ask un.”
Alfred sighed with relief.
“Do. All the same, if you think red bain’t so becomin’ early in the marning, do ’ee put off askin’ un till after tea.”
Prudence betrayed a livelier interest.