By this time the new-comer was but twenty feet distant. Though his appearance and dress were commonplace, his eyes, as they could see, were dark and glittering.
He made a halt.
"Friends," he said, "can you oblige me with the time?"
The farmer was about to produce his big, old-fashioned, silver watch, when Luke nudged him sharply.
"Leave him to me," he whispered, in a tone audible only to the farmer.
"Thee has asked the wrong party," he said aloud. "We don't carry watches."
The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be, he looked upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensive person, hardly deserving the name of man.
"I didn't speak to you," he said scornfully.