"So Susan's gone and married again!" James murmured, reflectively. Helen now definitely turned the whole of her mortal part towards James, so that she fronted him, and her feet were near his. He also turned, in response to this diplomatic advance, and leant his right elbow on the back of the seat, and his chin on his right palm. He put his left leg over his right leg, and thus his left foot swayed like a bird on a twig within an inch of Helen's flounce. The parasol covered the faces of the just and the unjust impartially. "I suppose you don't know a farmer named Bratt that used to have a farm near Sneyd?" said Helen. "I can't say as I do," said James. "Well, that's the man!" said Helen. "He used to come to Longshaw cattle-market with sheep and things." "Sheep and things!" echoed James. "What things?" "Oh! I don't know," said Helen, sharply. "Sheep and things." "And what did your mother take to Longshaw cattle-market?" James inquired. "I understood as she let lodgings." "Not since I've been a teacher," said Helen, rather more sharply. "Mother didn't take anything to the cattle-market. But you know our house was just close to the cattle-market." "No, I didn't," said James, stoutly. "I thought as it was in Aynsley-street." "Oh! that's years ago!" said Helen, shocked by his ignorance. "We've lived in Sneyd-road for years--years." "I'll not deny it," said James. "The great fault of our house," Helen proceeded, "was that mother daren't stir out of it on cattle-market days." "Why not?" "Cows!" said Helen. "Mother simply can't look at a cow, and they were passing all the time." "She should ha' been thankful as it wasn't bulls," James put in. "But I mean bulls too!" exclaimed Helen. "In fact, it was a bull that led to it." "What! Th' farmer saved her from a mad bull, and she fell in love with him? He's younger than her, I lay!" "How did you know that?" Helen questioned. "Besides, he isn't. They're just the same age." "Forty-four?" Perceiving delicious danger in the virgin's face, James continued before she could retort, "I hope Susan wasn't gored?" "You're quite wrong. You're jumping to conclusions," said Helen, with an air of indulgence that would have been exasperating had it not been enchanting. "Things don't happen like that except in novels." "I've never read a novel in my life," James defended himself. "Haven't you? How interesting!" "But I've known a woman knocked down by a bull." "Well, anyhow, mother wasn't knocked down by a bull. But there was a mad bull running down the street; it had escaped from the market. And Mr. Bratt was walking home, and the bull was after him like a shot. Mother was looking out of the window, and she saw what was going on. So she rushed to the front door and opened it, and called to Mr. Bratt to run in and take shelter. And they only just got the door shut in time." "Bless us!" muttered James. "And what next?" "Why, I came home from school and found them having tea together."