So cowardly! Not worth much, Jane!"
She bent forward over him, to keep the others from hearing this.
"Thee's tired too, Jane?" looking up dully.
"A little, Joseph."
Another silence.
"To-morrow, did thee say, we would go home?"
"Yes, to-morrow."
He shut his eyes to sleep.
"Kiss him," said the Doctor to her. "It will make him more certain."
Her face grew crimson.
"He has not asked me yet," she said.
Sometime early in the summer, nearly four years after, Miss Defourchet
came down to make her uncle another visit,--a little thinned and jaded
with her winter's work, and glad of the daily ride into the fresh
country-air. One morning, the Doctor, jumping into the barouche beside
her, said,--
"We'll make a day of it, Mary,--spend it with some old friends of ours.
They are such wholesome, natural people, it refreshes me to be with them
when I am tired."
"Starke and his wife?" she asked, arranging her scarf. "I never desire
to be with him, or with any man recreant to his work."
"Recreant, eh? Starke? Well, no; he works hard, digs and ditches, and is
happy. I think he takes his work more humbly and healthily than any man
I know.
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