'I never heard of the least annoyance to any one there before. I can only surmise that the sight of a lady, where no lady ever comes, excited the spite of some children perhaps. And they might have expressed their spite by throwing a few stones. That I half expected.'
'What would you have done then?' said Wych Hazel, with sudden curiosity.
'Dodge the stones, of course!' Rollo answered quietly.
Hazel gleamed up at him from under her hat, her lips in a curl.
'That is only what you would have tried to do,' she said. But then Miss Wych subsided and fell back into the closest rapt attention to the beauties of the landscape and the evening sky.
'The only time,' Rollo went on, 'when the least annoyance would be possible, is after work hours, or just at noon when they are out for dinner. At all other times the whole population is shut up in the mills, and the street is empty.'
'Was it your peaches then after all?' said the girl suddenly.
'Or did she pray us through?'
Rollo gave her one of the bright, sweet smiles he sometimes gave to his old nurse.
'How do I know?' he said. 'I think—peaches were sweet. And I don't believe Gyda ever prays in vain.'
Of course, such an afternoon, everybody had been out; happily the hour was so late that few were left on the road; but Wych could not escape all encounters.