'And there's Foxy in a grand new kennel, and me in a seat in chapel, and a bush o' laylac give me for myself, and a garden and a root o' virgin's pride.' 'I shall have that!' said Reddin, and stopped, having blundered into symbolism, and not knowing where he was. Hazel was silent also, playing with a foxglove flower. 'What are you up to?' he asked. She was glad of something to talk about. 'Look! When you get 'un agen the light you can see two little green things standing inside like people in a tent. They think they're safe shut in!' She bent down and called: 'I see yer! I see yer!' laughing. Reddin was bent on getting back to more satisfactory topics. 'They're just two, like us,' he said. 'Ah! We're like under a tent,' she answered, looking at the arching sky. 'Only there's nobody looking at us.' 'How do you know?' she whispered, looking up gravely. 'I'm thinking there _be_ somebody somewhere out t'other side of that there blue, and looking through like us through this here flower. And if so be he likes he can tear it right open, and get at us.' Reddin looked round almost apprehensively. Then, as the best way of putting a stop to superstition, he caught her to him and kissed her again. 'That's what tents are for, and what you're for,' he said. But he felt a chill in the place, and Hazel had frightened herself so much that she could not be lured from her aloofness. 'I mun go home-along,' she said; 'the sun's undering.' 'Will you come to Hunter's Spinney on Sunday?' 'Why ever?' 'Because I say so.' 'But why so far, whatever?' she asked amazedly. 'Because I want you to.' 'But I mun go to chapel along of Ed'ard, and sing 'ymns proper wi' the folks--and me singing higher nor any of them can go, for all I'm new to it--and the old lady'--her face grew mischievous--'the old lady in a shiny silk gownd as creaks and creaks when she stirs about!' Reddin lost patience. 'You're to start as soon as they're in church, d'you see?' 'Maybe I 'unna come.' 'You've got to. Look here, Hazel, you like having a lover, don't you?' 'I dunno.' 'Hazel! I'll bring you a present.' 'I dunna want it. What is it?' she said in a breath. 'Something nice. Then you promise to come?' There was a long silence. Her eyes seemed to her to be caught by his. She could not look away. And his eyes said strange, terrific things to her, things for which she had no words, wakening vitality, flattering, commanding, stirring a new curiosity, robbing her of breath. They stood thus for a long time, as much alone under the flaming sky as a man and woman of the stone age. When at least he released her eyes, he swung silently into the saddle and was gone. When he got home, Vessons came shambling to the door. 'Supper and a tot of whisky!' ordered his master. Vessons took no notice, but eyed the horse. 'You dunna mind how much work you give me at the day's end, do you?' he inquired conversationally. 'Get on with your jobs!'