“Lard,” said practical Alice, “what a man you be, Adam! There’s plenty o’ things more worth lookin’ at than trees, I d’ ’low. There’s fields wi’ the crops comin’ on so nice, and the river, and the road wi’ all the folks’ traps an’ carts and wagons, and there’s the gardens wi’ flowers and ’taters and everything, and there’s men and women, an’—an’ maids,” she added, tilting her chin saucily.
Adam brought back his eyes from the distant vision upon which they had been feasting to another vision nearer at hand, and his face relaxed.
“Ah, there’s maids,” he agreed. “I never knowed any maid afore I knowed you, Alice. There’s times when——”
He broke off suddenly.
“There’s times when—what?” she inquired with interest.
“I could a’most be glad sometimes that I did come away from the Warren,” said he. “I’m glad to know ye, Alice.”
“Oh, and are ye?” rejoined she with a somewhat tremulous laugh.
“E-es,” returned Adam reflectively, “I’ve see’d maids now and then when I did use to come down to buy a few little oddments in the town, but I never took no notice of them—I never knowed any of them. I be glad to know you, Alice.”
Alice made no answer. She picked a leaf from the hedge and chewed it. Had it not been so dark Adam might have noticed the sudden rush of colour that overspread her face.
“The chaps hereabouts do often seem to go out a-walkin’ wi’ maids,” resumed Adam. “I were a-thinkin’—you and me mid go a-walkin’ sometimes.”