Presently Mavis got up, perched herself beside her
husband, and whispered to him jerkily.
"You've nothing to forget, dear. No looking back. But, oh, my darling,
I'm going to be more than I ever was to you. I feel it. I _know_
it--an' we'll be happy, happy, happy, so long as we live."
She pressed her face against the sleeve of his jacket, and stroked his
knee with as much luxurious pleasure as if the rough cord breeches had
been made of the softest satin velvet.
"See. Look straight ahead," and she raised her hand and pointed.
Vine-Pits Farm was in sight. The stone house, the barns, the straw
ricks, and the fruit trees all seeming to have clustered close
together, to form a compact little kingdom of hope and joy.
"Look, dear. How pretty--see the sunlight on the roofs and on the
ricks. That's luck. All the straw is changing into gold. My old Will
is going to make heaps of golden sovereigns as big as any rick."
"Woo then. A-oo then." The carter stopped the horses outside the
garden entrance. "Will the missis get down here at th' front door, or
be us to go on into yaard?"
Mrs. Dale got down here, took the cat-basket from her husband, and
went gaily up the path to the open front door.
"Don't let th' cat loose," Dale called after her warningly, "or she'll
be back to Rodchurch like a streak o' greased lightning.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210