“Help yourself!” she said briefly. “You’re welcome to all that’s fit to eat.”
So the two who had been strangers, and had suddenly developed into a kind of partnership of aim, set to work to fill the basket, which for better convenience was slung over a branch of one of the bushes.
The sun shone down on them; the life-giving breeze blew round them; they were alone together among the flowers and the scented herbs. They worked side by side, laughing over their efforts, comparing their takings, gloating over the quickly-filling basket like a couple of children recognising each other as playmates, and disdaining the ordinary preliminaries of acquaintanceship.
“It’s so kind of you to help me!” said the man.
“It’s so kind of you to let me!” returned the maid.
“I—I have noticed that you seem always to be helping people.”
“I didn’t think you noticed anything at all!”
He had not intended to say so much. She did not stop to consider what she was implying. Both blushed, relapsed into silence, and picked fruit assiduously for several moments, before beginning again—
“I am afraid this picnic will be a great bore to you.”
“Indeed, I think it is going to be a pleasure. I should have thought of it before, but that sort of thing does not come easily to me. I have lived too much alone!”