‘And I noticed you hung behind when I was talkin’ to her arter church this mornin’. Was ’ee ashamed o’ meetin’ her?’
‘That’s about it,’ said Richard.
‘Nay, but that will never do. If ye go on a-hangin’ back, and a-keepin’ out o’ her way, things will get awk’arder and awk’arder a-tween ye. Now, take my advice and come along wi’ I quite quiet and nat’ral; it’ll all pass off so easy as ye could wish. Just drop in same as myself. I want ’ee to be friends.’
‘Well, I can’t refuse if you put it like that,’ said Marshall. And the two sallied forth together.
In spite of Mr. Sharpe’s prognostication, there was decidedly a little awkwardness about the young people’s meeting. Rosalie greeted Richard somewhat stiffly, and invited him with formal politeness to take a seat.
‘’T is a fine day,’ began Isaac, as he installed himself in the high-backed elbow-chair which had now become his by consecrated right. Rosalie responded hastily that it was a very fine day.
‘Ah,’ remarked the farmer, with a covert note of warning in his voice, ‘my nevvy was a-sayin’ as we come along that it was a wonderful fine day for the time o’ year—did n’t ’ee, Richard?’
As it happened to be the time of year when fine days were not uncommon, this alleged observation would not have testified to any extraordinary perspicacity on Richard’s part; but as a matter of fact it was entirely fictitious. Nevertheless the young man did not repudiate it.
‘Yes,’ he said, with his eyes on the floor; ‘yes, to be sure.’
‘Did n’t ’ee find it oncommon warm in church, Mrs. F.?’ pursued Mr. Sharpe, after a short silence.