‘Well, there’s such command in your looks that I ha’n’t heart to go against you. You will come this way to-morrow at the same time? Now, don’t be uncivil.’
She was too generous not to forgive him, but the short little lip murmured that she did not think it at all likely she should come that way to-morrow.
‘Then Sunday?’ he said.
‘Not Sunday,’ said she.
‘Then Monday—Tuesday—Wednesday, surely?’ he went on experimentally.
She answered that she should probably not see him on either day, and, cutting short the argument, went through the wicket into the other field. Festus paused, looking after her; and when he could no longer see her slight figure he swept away his deliberations, began singing, and turned off in the other direction.
VIII. ANNE MAKES A CIRCUIT OF THE CAMP
When Anne was crossing the last field, she saw approaching her an old woman with wrinkled cheeks, who surveyed the earth and its inhabitants through the medium of brass-rimmed spectacles. Shaking her head at Anne till the glasses shone like two moons, she said, ‘Ah, ah; I zeed ye! If I had only kept on my short ones that I use for reading the Collect and Gospel I shouldn’t have zeed ye; but thinks I, I be going out o’ doors, and I’ll put on my long ones, little thinking what they’d show me. Ay, I can tell folk at any distance with these—’tis a beautiful pair for out o’ doors; though my short ones be best for close work, such as darning, and catching fleas, that’s true.’
‘What have you seen, Granny Seamore?’ said Anne.
‘Fie, fie, Miss Nancy! you know,’ said Granny Seamore, shaking her head still. ‘But he’s a fine young feller, and will have all his uncle’s money when ‘a’s gone.’ Anne said nothing to this, and looking ahead with a smile passed Granny Seamore by.