"Unless I may sit beside you with my arm round your waist, in the
Pettigrew fashion, I'd rather stand!" he retorted. "You said
Pettigrew's hands were always dirty--so are mine. I'd better keep
my distance from you. One can't make hay and remain altogether as
clean as a new pin!"

She gave an impatient gesture.

"You always take things up in the wrong way," she said--"I never
thought you a bit like Pettigrew! Your hands are not really
dirty!"

"They are!" he answered, obstinately. "Besides, you don't want my
arm round your waist, do you?"

"Certainly not!" she replied, quickly.

"Then I'll stand," he said;--"You shall be enthroned like a queen
and I'll be your bodyguard. Here, wait a minute!"

He piled up the hay in the middle of the load till it made a high
cushion where, in obedience to his gesture, Innocent seated
herself. The men leading the horse were now close about the
waggon, and one of them, grinning sheepishly at the girl, offered
her a daintily-made wreath of wild roses, from which all the
thorns had been carefully removed.

"Looks prutty, don't it?" he said.