Hannah gave an assenting giggle, and Giles, after a moment’s hesitation, put his arm round her waist, repeating exultantly:
“Would ye now? Not that I ever set up to be a handsome man, ye know,” he added more seriously.
“Handsome is as handsome does,” exclaimed Hannah, in so heart-whole a fashion that Giles did not ask himself if the compliment were somewhat left-handed.
“Well, if your ’eart’s mine, that’s enough,” went on Giles, after an interval devoted to conscientious endeavours to recall the exact wording of the portentous letter. “I’m willin’—there, ye have it plain. I’m willin’.”
“Well,” said Hannah, “I’m sure I’m very thankful to ye, Giles. I be proud to think as I be your ch’ice, an’ I’ll do my very best for to make ye comfortable an’ happy.”
Giles, pleasantly conscious that this courtship, unlooked for though it might have been, was progressing on lines that were eminently orthodox and satisfactory, eyed her approvingly for some moments, and then, with a burst of enthusiasm, tightened his grip of her solid waist, and exclaimed—
“I d’ ’low I be ’appy an’ comfortable now.”
During the subsequent pause Jem Frisby thrust his sunburnt face between the catkin-tipped willow saplings which protruded from his corner of the hedge, and almost choked with laughter as he announced—
“They be a-kissin’ of each other!”
The middle-aged lovers sat on for some time in extreme enjoyment of the situation. The spring sunshine fell across their knees and their sturdy clasped hands; the birds sang over their heads, the twisted boughs of the old thorn waved in the light breeze, the leaf-buds, already green though not yet unfolded, flashing like jewels in the light. The bank beneath the hedge was gay with celandines, and the air was sweet with the scent of primroses, with which the place was carpeted, though few of the flowers were yet in full bloom.