“Ees,” agreed Mr Old. “’Tis a good few year now. ’Tis a nice change.”
He flicked at the off horse’s ear as he spoke, and the machine went rattling up the field again.
Jess waited till it turned, and then marched round the gate with a determined air, taking off his coat as he advanced, and setting his hat firmly on his head.
“Come, sir,” he cried, laying his hand on the reins. “This here job be altogether too much for ye. You get down, an’ let me pop up in your place. I can’t bide to see ye a-makin’ a slave o’ yoursel’ same as that.”
“Thank ’ee, Jess, thank ’ee,” responded the farmer, clambering down with great alacrity. “Ees, I’ll not deny I’m gettin’ a bit stiff for this here work. I reckon it ’ud ha’ tried me a bit.”
“I can’t forget as I did work for ye for ten year,” observed Jess, eyeing him sharply; he felt it would be the proper thing now for the other to own he was in fault on the previous day. But Mr Old appeared to have no such intention. He handed over the reins with a beaming face, and watched Jess take his vacated seat with evident satisfaction.
“I do call it real handsome of ye to lend a hand same as ye be a-doin’,” he said, “Real handsome, but no one do know better nor you that these be busy times.”
Jess’s countenance assumed a dubious, not to say depressed, expression, as he set the mowing-machine in motion; what did the master mean? Surely he could not think Jess such a fool as to lend a hand out of mere neighbourliness? His doubts increased when at dinner-time the farmer renewed his expressions of gratitude; something very like a twinkle appearing the while in his habitually expressionless eyes.
“I’ll not expect ye to come back this afternoon,” he observed. “Ye’ll have lots o’ little jobs to do at home. Nay now, a favour’s a favour, an’ I’d never be one for to ax too much.”
Jess stared hard, scratching his jaw, and the other resumed.