The driver was still working at his car when he found his passenger suddenly at his side. He was a queer customer, he thought to himself, looking up at the moody expression on his handsome face. He had behaved like a boy on their early morning ride, continually stopping the car, and then hustling it on again. He had sung and whistled and shouted at people on the road, laughed without any apparent reason, and dug the unfortunate driver in the back. He was clean off it, the man thought, grinning and vexed by turn, and wondering when and where the expedition would end. People as lively as that at blush of dawn were simply asking for slaps before the sun was down. He had steadied a trifle when they reached the Witham road, but the queerest thing of all that he did was that checking behind the traps. The driver was sure he was cracked by the time they got to the town, and he was surer than ever when he came out now and told him to move the car. He might have refused if his fare had not been so big and broad, and if he had not already shown himself generous on the road. As it was, he found himself, after a moment of sulky surprise, helping to push the trap into the disputed place. He still wore his injured expression when he went back to his job, but it was wasted on his employer, who never looked his way. Instead, he was standing and staring at Simon’s crazy rig, and he smiled as he stared, but it was not a happy smile. Presently he, too, made his way to the arch, and disappeared into the crowded street. The old folks had seemed in a terrible hurry to be gone, but, as a matter of fact, they halted as soon as they got outside. "I couldn’t ha’ gone in there whatever," Sarah said, in an apologetic tone, and Simon nodded, looking anxiously up and down. "If I could nobbut catch a sight o’ May," he muttered worriedly, searching the crowd. "May’d see to you right off, and get you a snack o’ summat an’ all. I’ve Mr. Dent to see about chucking t’farm, and I’ve a two-three other things to do as well." But instead of May, who was nowhere to be seen, a man came shyly towards them from a neighbouring group. He was like Simon to look at, only younger and better clad, showing none of the other’s signs of trouble and hard toil. His voice was like Simon’s, too, when Simon was at his best, but Sarah stiffened when she heard him speak. "You’ll not ha’ seen Fleming’s lass?" Simon asked, devouring the street, and Will swung about at once to cast his own glance over the press. "She was by a minute since," he said thoughtfully. "She can’t ha’ gone far...." He hunted a moment longer, and turned shyly back. "Likely you’ll give us a call at Blindbeck this afternoon?" Sarah said nothing in reply to the invitation, but Simon gave a nod. "I could do wi’ a word wi’ you, Will, if you’re not throng. It’s about time we were thinking o’ making a change. Sarah’s bothered wi’ her eyes."