She was leaning lightly with her elbow on the counter. I was on the inner side, bending over my order book.
When her voice stopped, I felt that she was looking at the top of my head. I raised my face suddenly and, to her, unexpectedly. For the first time, I saw clearly into her eyes. My breath caught, as, like a flash, I saw myself standing in the doorway of Modley Farm, along with my old chum, Tom Tanner; his mother beside us, with her arms round our shoulders; and I remembered the flippant conversation we had at that time.
The young lady before me had eyes of a liquid, golden-brown, lighter in colour than her hair, yet of wondrous depth and very attractive; inexpressibly attractive.
I averted my gaze quickly, but not quickly enough for her to miss the admiration I had so openly shown.
She picked up a tin from the counter and scanned the label.
"The delivery wagon is at your service, my lady," I put in lightly.
"Thank you!" she answered in relief.
I totted up the bill and handed it to her. "Eight dollars and thirty-five cents," I said.
"Now, Mr. Bremner,—please add your charge for the conveying of my piano, so that I may pay my debts altogether."
I gasped in amazement. I straightened myself indignantly, for the idea of making a charge for that work had never entered my head. And I knew Jake had never thought of such a thing either. It had been simply a little neighbourly assistance.