“Well, I haven’t got on so bad so far,” he observed. “Nay, I haven’t got
on so bad. But I don’t say—” here he gulped down a huge morsel and his
natural timidity at the same time. “But I don’t say as I shouldn’t get
on better wi’ a ’ooman to do for me. I don’t say as I shouldn’t. I
can’t say no fairer than that.”
He paused, and then, with a leer that was distinctly amorous, edged
himself a little nearer to her. “Seein’ as some folks as needn’t be
mentioned have a-took a fancy to I—”
“Lard, Mr Neale,” interrupted Hannah coyly. “Whatever did put sich a
notion into your head?”
Again Giles fixed his twinkling eyes upon her with a glance that was
unutterably knowing, and returned—
“Ye wouldn’t be here if ye hadn’t, would ye now?”
Hannah gave an assenting giggle, and Giles, after a moment’s hesitation,
put his arm round her waist, repeating exultantly:
“Would ye now? Not that I ever set up to be a handsome man, ye know,” he
added more seriously.
“Handsome is as handsome does,” exclaimed Hannah, in so heart-whole a
fashion that Giles did not ask himself if the compliment were somewhat
left-handed.
“Well, if your ’eart’s mine, that’s enough,” went on Giles, after an
interval devoted to conscientious endeavours to recall the exact wording
of the portentous letter. “I’m willin’—there, ye have it plain. I’m
willin’.”
“Well,” said Hannah, “I’m sure I’m very thankful to ye, Giles. I be
proud to think as I be your ch’ice, an’ I’ll do my very best for to make
ye comfortable an’ happy.”
Giles, pleasantly conscious that this courtship, unlooked for though it
might have been, was progressing on lines that were eminently orthodox
and satisfactory, eyed her approvingly for some moments, and then, with a
burst of enthusiasm, tightened his grip of her solid waist, and
exclaimed—
“I d’ ’low I be ’appy an’ comfortable now.”
During the subsequent pause Jem Frisby thrust his sunburnt face between
the catkin-tipped willow saplings which protruded from his corner of the
hedge, and almost choked with laughter as he announced—
“They be a-kissin’ of each other!”
The middle-aged lovers sat on for some time in extreme enjoyment of the
situation. The spring sunshine fell across their knees and their sturdy
clasped hands; the birds sang over their heads, the twisted boughs of the
old thorn waved in the light breeze, the leaf-buds, already green though
not yet unfolded, flashing like jewels in the light. The bank beneath
the hedge was gay with celandines, and the air was sweet with the scent
of primroses, with which the place was carpeted, though few of the
flowers were yet in full bloom.
Giles and Hannah were scarcely conscious of their surroundings, yet in
some indefinite way these added to their blissful state. Just as Giles,
with that twinkle in his eyes which heralded, as Hannah had perceived,
some particularly ardent speech, had nudged her meaningly and enquired
“What about bein’ called home,” the church clock struck nine, and at the
same time the blare of the brewery “whooter” fell upon their ears.
Simultaneously with these sounds, others, even more discordant than the
hooter startled the pair, who scrambled to their feet in time to see a
row of gesticulating figures surmounted by grinning faces, spring up from
behind the hedge, which they had believed to shelter them.
“April fools, haw, haw!” . . . “I d’ ’low ye be a proper pair on ’em!”
“April fool, Hannah! Giles, ye be an April fool!”
“We took in the pair o’ ye nicely!”
This was the chorus which greeted their bewildered ears, interspersed
with shouts of laughter, while fingers were pointed and heads were shaken
waggishly. Giles was the first to recover his self-possession.
“What be the meanin’ o’ this?” he enquired angrily. “It’s too bad if a
man can’t step out to have a quiet word wi’ a ’ooman!”
“More particular when the ’ooman’s took sich a mortal fancy to ’en!”
interpolated Lizzie, holding her sides.
“Yes,” cried Alice, quick to take up her cue. “Why, Hannah’s heart have
a-been yours two year an’ more. I’m sure I don’t wonder at it,” she
added, “Sich a ’andsome man as you be.”
“Who’s been a-tellin’ ye about that?” growled Giles, turning very red.
“Ask Hannah!” ejaculated Lizzie, in a voice that was scarcely articulate
for laughter. “Ask the vittiest maid in the whole o’ Darset.”
“Giles,” exclaimed Hannah tremulously, “somebody must ha’ read your
letter to me.”