"This is food for the gods," said the hungry Claud, as he covered his bread thickly with scalded cream. "This is indeed a land flowing with milk and honey."
"I can get yer some hooney tû, if yer wants it," murmured Clara, very low, with drooping eyes.
"No, no, I was only speaking metaphorically," said he, laughing. "How old are you, Clara?"
"A'm seventeen, sirr."
"Ah! That's a fine age. And how old's your brother?"
"A've tû broothers, sirr."
"Oh, two—which be they?" said Claud, wiping his lips, and surveying his admiring audience.
The two Battishills stepped forward, grinning.
"Oh! isn't that tall fellow with the light hair your brother?" he said, indicating the boy whom Mrs. Battishill had called Saul.
She shook her head, and there was a general titter, while the words "sorft," "innocent," could be heard, by which means he gradually gathered that Saul was the village idiot, at home everywhere and beloved everywhere. Finding himself the object of general attention, the boy crept behind Clara, who was a head shorter than he, and hid his face in her neck till only his beautiful golden curls were visible.