She awoke in the morning, thinking of Craddock, and felt it impossible to go through the day without seeing him. She thought of sending an invitation to luncheon or to tea, but hardly dared; and she did not want Miss Ley to see him yet. Then she remembered the farm; she would walk there, was it not hers? He would surely be working upon it. The god of love was propitious, and in a field she saw him, directing some operation. She trembled at the sight, her heart beat very quickly; and when, seeing her, he came forward with a greeting, she turned red and then white in the most compromising fashion. But he was very handsome as, with easy gait, he sauntered to the hedge; above all he was manly, and the pleasing thought passed through Bertha that his strength must be quite herculean. She barely concealed her admiration. “Oh, I didn’t know this was your farm,” she said, shaking hands. “I was just walking at random.” “I should like to show you round, Miss Bertha.” Craddock opened the gate and took her to the sheds where he kept his carts, pointing out a couple of sturdy horses ploughing an adjacent field; he showed her his cattle, and poked the pigs to let her admire their excellent condition; he gave her sugar for his hunter, and took her to the sheep--explaining everything while she listened spell-bound. When, with great pride, Craddock showed her his machines and explained the use of the horse-tosser and the expense of the reaper, she thought that never in her life had she heard anything so enthralling. But above all Bertha wished to see the house in which he lived. “D’you mind giving me a glass of water?” she said, “I’m so thirsty.” “Do come in,” he answered, opening the door. He led her to a little parlour with an oil-cloth on the floor. On the table, which took up most of the room, was a stamped, red cloth; the chairs and the sofa, covered with worn old leather, were arranged with the greatest possible stiffness. On the chimney-piece, along with pipes and tobacco-jars, were bright china vases with rushes in them, and in the middle a marble clock. “Oh how pretty!” cried Bertha, with enthusiasm. “You must feel very lonely here by yourself.” “Oh no--I’m always out. Shall I get you some milk? It’ll be better for you than water.” But Bertha saw a napkin laid on the table, a jug of beer, and some bread and cheese. “Have I been keeping you from your lunch?” she asked. “I’m so sorry.” “It doesn’t matter at all. I just have a little snack at eleven.” “Oh, may I have some too? I love bread and cheese, and I’m perfectly ravenous.” They sat opposite one another, seeing a great joke in the impromptu meal. The bread, which he cut in a great chunk, was delicious, and the beer, of course, was nectar. But afterwards, Bertha feared that Craddock must be thinking her somewhat odd. “D’you think it’s very eccentric of me to come and lunch with you in this way?”