"Well, the one on the common is gettin' on fairly well. They've got down about fifty feet; but that's 'mazin' hard work, as you can see."
"And the other, the one by the railway? I haven't been round there these three days, and my grandfather, he won't have nothin' to say to it." Milly smiled as she said this, and an answering smile showed itself on Geo's broad face.
"No, so I heard say. He's an old-fashioned old gentleman, he is. He don't go with th' times no-how, do 'ee?"
"That he don't," said Milly. "You should hear him goin' on about it!"
"Well," said Geo, rising slowly from his recumbent position and taking the can from the girl's hand, "that's a rum job altogether. Them at the bridge can't make nothin' of it, and no more—-"
"Why do you go with them at the bridge at all?" broke in Milly impatiently. "Who cares what they say or what they don't say, I should like to know?" very haughtily. "Give me my can, please; I can get it myself!"
Geo stared at her, at a loss to account for the sudden change in he look and manner. A minute ago she was evidently inclined to be friendly, but now she was equally evidently inclined to be extremely annoyed with him. Geo gave vent to his feelings in a low, long whistle. Milly blushed crimson.
"I beg your pardon," she said; "I oughtn't to have said it. That's no business of mine whether you loaf all day on the bridge not. But I have my work to do, and I mustn't loiter here no more, or I shall have grandfather after me."
Geo stood quietly by while she made this rather long speech, and was surprised to feel that he did not quite like it. He was inclined to think he liked it better when she flashed out her contempt for his idleness. But being a man of few words, and not much felicity of expression, he merely muttered something unintelligible, and leaning over the bank filled her can.