'Not a bit,' said Anne, seeing his mistake as to the state of her heart, and being rather angry with him for it. 'I think it was most natural, considering the noise.'
Silence again. 'Derriman is sober as a judge,' said Loveday, as they turned to go. 'It was only the others who were noisy.'
'Whether he is sober or not is nothing whatever to me,' said Anne.
'Of course not. I know it,' said the trumpet-major, in accents expressing unhappiness at her somewhat curt tone, and some doubt of her assurance.
Before they had emerged from the shadow of the hall some persons were seen moving along the road. Loveday was for going on just the same; but Anne, from a shy feeling that it was as well not to be seen walking alone with a man who was not her lover, said--'Mr. Loveday, let us wait here a minute till they have passed.'
On nearer view the group was seen to comprise a man on a piebald horse, and another man walking beside him. When they were opposite the house they halted, and the rider dismounted, whereupon a dispute between him and the other man ensued, apparently on a question of money.
''Tis old Mr. Derriman come home!' said Anne. 'He has hired that horse from the bathing-machine to bring him. Only fancy!'
Before they had gone many steps further the farmer and his companion had ended their dispute, and the latter mounted the horse and cantered away, Uncle Benjy coming on to the house at a nimble pace.
As soon as he observed Loveday and Anne, he fell into a feebler gait; when they came up he recognized Anne.
'And you have torn yourself away from King George's Esplanade so soon, Farmer Derriman?' said she.
'Yes, faith. I couldn't bide at such a ruination place,' said the farmer. 'Your hand in your pocket every minute of the day. 'Tis a shilling for this, half-a-crown for that; if you only eat one egg, or even a poor windfall of an apple, you've got to pay; and a bunch o' radishes is a halfpenny, and a quart o' cider a good tuppence three-farthings at lowest reckoning. Nothing without paying. I couldn't even get a ride homeward upon that screw without the man wanting a shilling for it, when my weight didn't take a penny out of the beast. I've saved a penn'orth or so of shoeleather to be sure; but the saddle was so rough wi' patches that 'a took twopence out of the seat of my best breeches. King George hev' ruined the town for other folks. More than that, my nephew promised to come there to-morrow to see me, and if I had stayed I must have treated en.
Hey--what's that?'
It was a shout from within the walls of the building, and Loveday said--'Your nephew is here, and has company.'
'My nephew HERE?' gasped the old man. 'Good folks, will you come up to the door with me. I mean--hee--hee--just for company. Dear me, I thought my house was as quiet as a church?'
They went back to the window, and the farmer looked in, his mouth falling apart to a greater width at the corners than in the middle, and his fingers assuming a state of radiation.
''Tis my best silver tankards they've got, that I've never used. O!
'tis my strong beer. 'Tis eight candles guttering away, when I've used nothing but twenties myself for the last half-year!'
'You didn't know he was here, then?' said Loveday.
'O no!' said the farmer, shaking his head half-way. 'Nothing's known to poor I. There's my best rummers jingling as careless as if 'twas tin cups; and my table scratched, and my chairs wrenched out of joint. See how they tilt 'em on the two back legs--and that's ruin to a chair. Ah! when I be gone he won't find another old man to make such work with, and provide goods for his breaking, and house-room and drink for his tear-brass set!'
'Comrades and fellow-soldiers,' said Festus to the hot farmers and yeomen he entertained within, 'as we have vowed to brave danger and death together, so we'll share the couch of peace. You shall sleep here to-night, for it is getting late. My scram blue-vinnied gallicrow of an uncle takes care that there shan't be much comfort in the house, but you can curl up on the furniture if beds run short. As for my sleep, it won't be much. I'm melancholy. A woman has, I may say, got my heart in her pocket, and I have hers in mine.
She's not much--to other folk, I mean--but she is to me. The little thing came in my way, and conquered me. I fancy that simple girl!
I ought to have looked higher--I know it; what of that. 'Tis a fate that may happen to the greatest men.'
'Whash her name?' said one of the warriors, whose head occasionally drooped upon his epaulettes, and whose eyes fell together in the casual manner characteristic of the tired soldier. (It was really Farmer Stubb, of Duddle Hole.)
'Her name. Well, 'tis spelt, A, N--but, by gad, I won't give ye her name here in company. She don't live a hundred miles off, however, and she wears the prettiest cap-ribbons you ever saw. Well, well, 'tis weakness. She has little, and I have much; but I do adore that girl, in spite of myself!'
'Let's go on,' said Anne.
'Prithee stand by an old man till he's got into his house!' implored Uncle Benjy. 'I only ask ye to bide within call. Stand back under the trees, and I'll do my poor best to give no trouble.'
'I'll stand by you for half-an-hour, sir,' said Loveday. 'After that I must bolt to camp.'
'Very well; bide back there under the trees,' said Uncle Benjy. 'I don't want to spite 'em?'
'You'll wait a few minutes, just to see if he gets in?' said the trumpet-major to Anne as they retired from the old man.
'I want to get home,' said Anne anxiously.
When they had quite receded behind the tree-trunks and he stood alone, Uncle Benjy, to their surprise, set up a loud shout, altogether beyond the imagined power of his lungs.
