“Eh?” he said again.
Danby was not to be beaten. There was something in his manner which showed that he was in the habit of addressing himself to audiences and talking for effect.
“How delightful,” he continued, with fluent insincerity, “to find a peasant in song! A merry heart wags all the day. Who wouldn’t be happy among the golden corn, in touch with Nature, with the field-bugs gambolling over one’s back!”
“Eh?”
Danby laughed.
“You find me a little flowery; I am flying too high for you. I am indulging in aeroplanics. I’ll come down to the good red earth. Marnin’, matey. How’s t’crops?”
The imitation of the country accent was ridiculously exaggerated. The farm-hand examined the town man searchingly and suspiciously.
“Eh?” he said again.
“Beat again!” said Danby, with a shriek of laughter.
Pippard went closer, but slowly.