"Ay."

Thus we lounged out all the summer morning, recurring to a few of the
infinitude of subjects we used to compare notes upon; though we were
neither of us given to wordiness, and never talked but when we had
something to say. Often--as on this day--we sat for hours in a
pleasant dreaminess, scarcely exchanging a word; nevertheless, I
could generally track John's thoughts, as they went wandering on, ay,
as clearly as one might track a stream through a wood; sometimes--
like to-day--I failed.

In the afternoon, when we had finished our bread and cheese--eaten
slowly and with graceful dignity, in order to make dinner a more
important and lengthy affair--he said abruptly--

"Phineas, don't you think this field is rather dull? Shall we go
somewhere else? not if it tires you, though."

I protested the contrary, my health being much above the average this
summer. But just as we were quitting the field we met two rather
odd-looking persons entering it, young-old persons they seemed, who
might own to any age or any occupation. Their dress, especially that
of the younger, amused us by its queer mixture of fashionableness and
homeliness, such as grey ribbed stockings and shining paste shoe-
buckles, rusty velvet small-clothes and a coatee of blue cloth. But
the wearer carried off this anomalous costume with an easy,
condescending air, full of pleasantness, humour, and grace.

"Sir," said he, approaching John Halifax with a bow that I feel sure