“Ay,” he said, “but yon’s a fine bit o’ wor-rk.”
“You’re fond of sculpture,” said Miss Mason shortly.
“’Deed,” said Andrew, “I like it weel.”
“Do you do anything yourself in that way?” asked Miss Mason.
Andrew shook his head. “I’ll no be havin’ the time,” he said, “for mair than juist dabblin’ wi’ a bit o’ clay.”
“Would you like to give your time to the work?” asked Miss Mason.
“’Deed an’ I wad.” There was a simple earnestness about the words infinitely more convincing than any lengthy assurance of the fact.
“Well,” said Miss Mason gruffly, “let’s have some tea.”
During the meal Barnabas did most of the talking, Andrew replying in short sentences. Miss Mason was practically silent. When it was finished Miss Mason looked across at Barnabas.
“Better tell Mr. McAndrew our idea,” she said.