“An’ she be a lookin’ up at he this way,” responded Lizzie, with a leer which was a malicious exaggeration of poor Hannah’s uncertain smile.
“So you be a-settin’ on the ground?” hazarded Giles at last.
He squeezed himself through the gap and came a step nearer. He was a thick-set man, with a broad, good-humoured, stupid face, which was now all creased and puckered with an odd expression that partook as much of anxiety as pleasure.
“Bain’t ye afeared o’ catchin’ cold?” he pursued, illuminated by a sudden idea.
“I’ll get up if you like,” stammered Hannah.
“Nay now,” said Giles, “I don’t know as I would.”
He grinned till his eyes positively disappeared as he lowered himself to the ground beside her.
“How’s that?” he enquired.
Hannah was at a loss to answer, and, after a moment’s pause, he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out a large hunch of bread and cheese
“Best make the most of our time,” he remarked. “We’m ploughin’ to-day. Hain’t you brought your breakfast?” he asked, pausing in the midst of mastication.