Ursula sat up and patted her perfectly-ordered hair.
"Good gracious! I must have been dozing. How are you, John? I'm perfectly fit, thanks."
"Where's Mary?"
"She's gone off up the village somewhere. I say, John, you ought to keep an eye on that wife of yours. She works much too hard."
John tugged at his beard and smiled lazily down at Ursula.
"Oh, I can't stop her. If she wants to do anything she will. What's she up to now?"
"She's off to tell the schoolmaster some home-truths about a lad or something. She says you want him on the farm and he's under age."
"Jack Greenwood? I don't want him. That's her idea. How long has she been gone?"
"Oh, I don't know. Ages. Do sit down and talk to me."
John looked apologetically at his boots. Near Ursula's fragile daintiness he felt more than ever conscious of his bulk and clumsiness.