'Can you tell me the name of the young woman who passed down the road just now?'
'Jen Wilkes, sir; "Jen o' the glen" they calls 'er, for she lives in the holler down there, a bit by on the town road, out of West Chilton.'
'She has not lived here long, surely; she seems a north country woman by her speech.'
'Very like, sir; it's a while by sin' she came with 'er mother to live i' Chilton.'
It was evident that the ploughman had much more to say, and that he wished to say it, but his words did not come easily.
'Can you tell me anything more about her?' The man rubbed his coarse beard down upon his collar, and clanked his chains, and made guttural sounds to his horses, which possibly explained to them the meaning he did not verbally express. Then he looked up and made a facial contortion, which clearly meant that there was more to be said concerning Jen if any one could be found brave enough to say it.
'I feel assured she is everything that is good and respectable.'
At this the ploughman could contain himself no longer, but heaving up one shoulder and looking round to see that there was no one to hear, he blurted out—''Ave you seen 'er shadder, sir?'
'Her what?'
''Er shadder. I seen you so long with 'er on the road I thought maybe you'd tried to 'ave a kiss. Gentlemen mostly thinks a sight of Jen's looks; an' it ain't no harm as I knows on to kiss a tidy girl, if y'ain't married, or th' missus don't object.'