"How did you know who it was? You saw me coming!"
"Did I? I don't like to contradict a stranger."
"Am I a stranger?"
"What makes a stranger? How long has it been since you were here?"
"A lifetime," he replied gravely.
"You are still living! Will you walk into my parlour?"
"Will you meet me at the door?" It was so pleasant to seem gay, to say nothing, be nothing! She came quietly over to the fence and gave him her hand with a little laugh." "You have holiday of Saturdays. I have not, you see. But I can take a recess: come in. You are looking well! Wounds agree with you."
He went trembling round to the gate, passed in, and they sat down on the bench.
"How things grow in this soil," she said pointing to the garden. "It has only been five or six weeks since you were here. Do you remember? I was planting the seed: now look at the plants!"
"I, too, was sowing that afternoon," he replied musingly. "But my harvest ripened before yours; I have already reaped it."
"What's that you are saying about me?" called out a hard, smooth voice from over the fence at their back. "I don't like to miss anything!"