me out o' th' road. I'll coom. If you're not there, I'll coom to the
field."

"Well, you might do that," agreed John, accommodatingly. "Some o' th'
other chaps 'ud be glad enough to take a few of these cockles off you.
'Twould be a bit of a change wi' th' bread and cheese. We're goin' to
cut the big meadow to the right as you go to the village. Come to the
top of the hill, and I'll show it you."

"Nay, I'll not go near field if they're all theer. I went once, an'
farmer he said he'd set dog at me; an' th' lads began o' jokin' an'
laughin' at me. Aye, I get mad wi' nobbut thinkin' on't."

She coloured as she spoke, and John's face clouded over, as though her
indignation had infected him. In fact, he had too recently suffered
from the rude jests and laughter of his fellow-labourers not to
sympathise with Sally.

"I know them," he said bitterly, "and a rough lot they are. They leave
me no peace; they give me plenty of their impudence too, if it's any
comfort to you, Sally, to know that."

"Eh dear!" cried Sally in amazement. "Why, whatever can they find
amiss wi' you?"

The blue eyes were upturned with such genuine and admiring
astonishment that John could not but be touched and flattered. In this
actual mood, moreover, when his spirit was still smarting from the
remembrance of the manner in which scornful Jinny had turned him into
a laughing-stock, Sally's respectful appreciation was doubly sweet to