"I'll car' it for you if you're agreeable," he said shamefacedly, and the two moved together towards the cottage.
"Thank you kindly," Milly said gently when they reached the door; but she did not ask him to step in, and he turned away awkwardly enough, wishing he had the courage to tell the girl he had not spoken to three time in his life since they were at school together that he was tired of his companions on the bridge, and would gladly change his habits if only she would be friends with him.
With a gruff "You're welcome, I'm sure," he slouched off towards the village.
As he turned out of the lane by the bridge, Corkam caught sight of him, and called after him,—-
"Geo, come here, buoy! What are you arter, slinking away like that? Why, that nigh on time for a pint!"
But Geo, for once in his life, turned the other way, and sauntered up the road to the new well by the railway. The men had given up work for a spell, and were sitting in the shadiest spot they could find eating their "'levenses." Geo lay down under the fence with them.
"If I'd ha' known what a job this 'oud ha' bin," said one man, "blow me if I'd ha' took it on."
"Hard work, is it?" said Geo pleasantly.
"Ay, hard work indeed—harder work nor you iver did a' your born days, I'll lay a sovr'in'."
For the first time since Geo didn't know when, he felt a twinge of shame at these rough words, and his eyes fell on his own hands, fine, strong, well-shaped, capable hands, tanned with sun and wind, but not hardened with toil like the other men's. A big, good-natured looking man, who had just swallowed a good draught of home-made "small beer," spoke suddenly, as if he had divined the other's thoughts.