Dave's smile broadened, and his eyes sought Betty's.
"Well, Betty?" he demanded.
But Betty understood.
"I have nothing to say," she replied quietly.
Dave promptly turned again to the parson. His smile had gone again.
"I've got to go, Tom," he said. "My work's done here, but it hasn't begun yet in Malkern. Do you get my meaning? Until the cutting began up here I was not needed down there. Now it is different. There is no one in Malkern to head things. Dawson and Odd are good men, but they are only my—foremen. It is imperative that I go, and—to-night."
"But look here, boss, it can't be done," cried Mason, with a sort of hopeless earnestness. "You aren't fit to move yet. The journey down—you'd never stand it. Besides——"
"Yes, besides, who's to take you down? How are you going?" Chepstow broke in sharply. He meant to clinch the matter once for all.
Dave's manner returned to the peevishness of his invalid state.
"There's the buckboard," he said sharply.