"Why aren't you there, too?"
He opened his blue eyes, taken aback by the cool clearness of her voice.
"Well, I can't abide the parson—if you want to know. Shall I put up your pony?"
"But perhaps you've not had your sleep out?" said Laura, politely interrogative.
He reddened, and came forward with a slow and rather shambling gait.
"I don't know what else there is to do up here of a Sunday morning," he said, with a boyish sulkiness, as he began to lead the pony towards the stables opposite. "Besides, I was up half the night seeing to one of the cows."
"You don't seem to have many neighbours," said Laura, as she walked beside him.
"There's rooks and crows" (which he pronounced broadly—"craws")—"not much else, I can tell you. Shall I take the pony out?"
"Please. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me for hours!"
She looked at him merrily, and he returned the scrutiny. She wore the same thin black dress in which Helbeck had admired her the day before, and above it a cloth jacket and cap, trimmed with brown fur. Mason was dazzled a moment by the milky whiteness of the cheek above the fur, by the brightness of the eyes and hair; then was seized with fresh shyness, and became extremely busy with the pony.