"Are you angry with me for laughing?"
"Lord—no! A laugh like yours warms the cockles of my heart. Laugh away, miss. All the same, there's a meaning in what neighbours say. I do move slow, when I've a load. And in winter-time, when roads are heavy, I just crawl along. You're right. A motor-'bus is grand. And I can pay cash for one, I can."
He spoke with pride, opening his large hands. Fancy, having finished cutting the bread-and-butter, sat down opposite to Alfred. With some difficulty he mastered the impulse to invite this bird-like creature to perch on his knee. Her air of aloofness both pleased and exasperated him. She sat very still, with her hands folded upon her lap, just as good girls sat in church. Alfred talked with gusto about motor-'buses.
"Can you drive a motor?" asked Fancy, when he paused to mop his forehead with a huge red bandana.
"No, miss. But if I say it as shouldn't, I can do most anything when I try. They'll teach me in Salisbury—free, gratis and for nothing, if I buy the 'bus."
"I do hope you'll be careful, Mr. Yellam."
Alfred was delighted at this mark of solicitude. For the moment nothing more was to be said. He searched his mind for another suitable topic of conversation. Already he had decided to ask Fancy to walk out with him, but he feared a rebuff. It was "up" to him to shew her his paces. Any premature love-making might be disastrous. Nevertheless, it behoved him to waste no time in making himself agreeable. Half-a-dozen likely young fellows would be fluttering about Fancy before the week was out. First come, first served. He essayed a fresh flight:
"Coming through village, miss, I met a soldier—'No Account Harry' we used to call him. Back from the Indies, and spruced up wonderful."
Fancy exhibited lively interest.
"A soldier, Mr. Yellam! I do like soldiers, because—because——" Her voice melted on a silence; her cheeks shewed a deeper pink.