Ah me! This was Wednesday already; to-morrow would be Thursday, and the next day Friday! I did not hear this, but I give you my word it took place.
“Are you coming to see the Vicar again?” asked the sweet voice.
They both looked down at the gnarled roots of the old tree—the roots did stick out a long way, and I suppose attracted their attention—and then Polly just touched the big root with her tiny toe. And the point of that tiny toe touched Joe’s heart too, which seemed to have got into that root somehow, and sent a thrill as of an electric shock, only much pleasanter, right through his whole body, and even into the roots of his hair.
“When are you coming again?” whispered the sweet lips.
“Don’t know,” said the young soldier; “perhaps never.”
“O yes,” answered Joe, “I shall come and see mother; but what’s it matter to thee, lassie?”
The lassie blushed, and Joe thought it a good opportunity to take hold of her hand. I don’t know why, but he did; and he was greatly surprised that the hand did not run away.
“Do he?” and he kept drawing nearer and nearer, little by little, until his other hand went clean round Polly Sweetlove’s waist, and—well an owl flew out of the tree at that moment, and drew off my attention; but afterwards I saw that they both kept looking at the root of the tree, and then Joe said;
“Now, look at that!” said Joe, recovering himself a little; “I always thought you liked the baker.”
“Now, look at that,” said Joe; “did you ever see me wild, Polly?”
“No, and you can ask my mother or Mrs. Bumpkin, or the Vicar, or anybody else you like, Polly—.”
“I shall go and see your mother,” said Polly.
“Will you come to-morrow night?” asked Joe.
“If I can get away I will; but I must go now—good-bye—good-bye—good——”
“I must go, Joe—good—; but I will come to-morrow, as soon as dinner is over—good—good—good-bye.”
“And then——,” but the Old Oak kept his counsel. Here I awoke.
“Well,” cried my wife, “you have broken off abruptly.”
“One can’t help it,” quoth I, rubbing my eyes. “I cannot help waking any more than I can help going to sleep.”
“Well, this would be a very pretty little courtship if true.”
“Ah,” I said, “if I have described all that I saw in my dream, you may depend upon it it is true. But when I go to Southwood I will ask the Old Oak, for we are the greatest friends imaginable, and he tells me everything. He has known me ever since I was a child, and never sees me but he enters into conversation.”