The farmer looked up sharply.
"You've brought the milk-cans back, too, I suppose? Your bag's not the principal thing. Have you seen to Dapple?"
"Yes," said Geoff, and his tone was somewhat sulky.
Eames looked at him again, and still more sharply.
"I told you at the first you were to keep a civil tongue in your head," he said. "You'll say 'sir' when you speak to me."
But just then Mrs. Eames fortunately made her appearance.
"Don't scold him—he's only a bit strange," she said. "Come with me, Jim, and I'll show you your room."
"Thank you," said the boy, gratefully.
Mrs. Eames glanced at her husband, as much as to say she was wiser than he, and then led the way out of the kitchen down a short, flagged passage, and up a short stair. Then she opened a door, and, by the candle she held, Geoff saw a very small, very bare room. There was a narrow bed in one corner, a chair, a window-shelf, on which stood a basin, and a cupboard in the wall.
Mrs. Eames looked round. "It's been well cleaned out since last boy went," she said. "Master and me'll look in now and then to see that you keep it clean. Cupboard's handy, and there's a good flock mattress." Then she gave him the light, and turned to go.