If he liked her voice, she liked his, and if he
admired her nice shoulders, she was equally pleased with his great broad
ones. Just the old craft of nature once more, as happens at every time in
the year and turns all seasons into spring.
"I'm called Cicely," she said--"'Sis' for shortness. And what be you
called?"
"My name's Samuel Borlase," he answered, and she nodded.
"I'll remember," she said.
In five minutes they were walking side by side to her home, which lay
along the policeman's beat; and he carried her basket and talked about
local affairs.
He was a bit shaken, however, to know she belonged to Chawner, and wished
with all his heart that she had not.
Mr. Green was in his garden when they came along and he struck a tragical
attitude and poked fun at 'em, for no man loved a joke better than what he
did.
"Already!" he cried. "Have she fallen into evil already, Borlase? Be the
sins of the fathers visited on the childer so soon?"
But the girl hastened to explain.
"He's been merciful, dad," she explained. "Mr. Borlase catched me stealing
sloe berries for your sloe gin; but I didn't know I was stealing, you see,
for I thought they were free, so he's forgived me and I ban't to hear no
more of it this time."
"Then he can come in and have a drop of the last brew," declared Chawner;
"but just look round afore he enters and see as no fur nor feathers be
about in the house-place to fret him.
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