“Have ye got any money about ye?” inquired Alice eagerly. “Turn it round quick, if ye have.”
“What for?”
“Why, for luck, sure. Didn’t ye know that? You must turn your money first time you do hear cuckoo cry so as you’ll have plenty more to-year.”
Adam’s fingers dropped from the waistcoat pocket where they had been vaguely fumbling.
“What’s money to me?” he muttered, as, with head thrown back and brows frowning with eagerness, he followed the course of certain black specks which at that moment were flying high over the wood.
“Wild duck!” he remarked presently.
Alice turned on him in desperation.
“Well, I be a-goin’ for to sit down,” she remarked. “I’ve a-brought a bit o’ summat to eat wi’ me.”
She produced from the little basket which she had carried sundry slices of cake which she offered to Baverstock.
“I did bring seed-cake a-purpose because you did say you liked it best,” she observed in an expectant tone. But Adam’s dark eyes continued to rove even while he ate, and his only response was inconsequent enough:—