‘I’ll come, sir, and be thankful. I daresay a turn’ll do me good, if the weather holds up, an’ th’ frost keeps on.’
‘That’s right, my lad,’ said Robson, shaking him by the hand, and then Kinraid’s hand was held out to Sylvia, and she could not avoid the same friendly action.
Molly Corney followed her to the door, and when they were fairly outside, she held Sylvia back for an instant to say,—
‘Is na’ he a fine likely man? I’m so glad as yo’ve seen him, for he’s to be off next week to Newcastle and that neighbourhood.’
‘But he said he’d come to us some night?’ asked Sylvia, half in a fright.
‘Ay, I’ll see as he does; never fear. For I should like yo’ for to know him a bit. He’s a rare talker. I’ll mind him o’ coming to yo’.’
Somehow, Sylvia felt as if this repeated promise of reminding
