"What have you got there?--Oh, Charlton, don't!--please put that down!--I didn't know I had left them there.--They were a little wet and I laid them on the chair to dry."
"What do you call this?" said he, not minding her request.
"They are only my gardening gloves--I thought I had put them away."
"Gloves!" said he, pulling at them disdainfully,--"why here are two--one within the other--what's that for?"
"It's an old-fashioned way of mending matters,--two friends covering each other's deficiencies. The inner pair are too thin alone, and the outer ones have holes that are past cobbling."
"Are we going to have any breakfast to-day?" said he flinging the gloves down. "You are very late!"
"No," said Fleda quietly,--"it is not time for aunt Lucy to be down yet."
"Don't you have breakfast before nine o'clock?"
"Yes--by half-past eight generally."
"Strange way of getting along on a farm!--Well I can't wait--I promised Thorn I would meet him this morning--Barby!--I wish you would bring me my boots!--"