2
"Well!" she said to Henry as they moved towards the byre.
He had sat with the farmer for a while, talking of the weather and the crops and the prospects of the harvest, and then, seeing Sheila going across the yard, he had followed her.
"Well?" she said, looking at him quizzically.
He did not know what to say, so he stood there smiling at her. Her arms were bare to the bend, and the neck of her blouse was open so that he saw her firm, brown throat.
"Well!" he replied, still smiling, and "Well?" she said again.
She went into the byre, and he followed her to the door, and stood peering into the dark interior where a sick cow lay lowing softly.
"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Sheila called to him.
"I have a whole lot to say," he replied, "but I don't know how to say it!"
She laughed at that, and he liked the strong, quick sound of her laughter. "You're the quare wee fella," she exclaimed.
Wee fellow! He flushed and straightened himself.
"I was passing along the road," he said stiffly, "and I thought I'd come up and see your uncle!..."
"Oh!" she answered.
"Yes. My father was wondering yesterday how he was getting on, so I just thought I'd come over and see him. I suppose you're busy?"
"You suppose right!"
He moved a step or two away from the door of the byre. "Then I won't hinder you in your work," he said.
"You're not hinderin' me," she replied, coming out of the dark byre as she spoke. "It would take the quare man to hinder me! Where's Mr. Marsh this mornin'?"
"Oh, somewhere!"
"I thought you an' him was always thegether. You're always about anyway!"
He felt strangely boyish while she was talking. Last night, when he had drawn her to him and had kissed her soft, moist lips, he had felt suddenly adult. While his arms were about her, he was conscious of manhood, of something new in his life, something that he had been growing to, but until that moment had not yet reached ... and now, standing in the strong sunlight and looking into her firm, laughing eyes, his manhood seemed to have receded from him, and once more he was ... a wee fellow, a schoolboy, a bit of a lad.... His vexation must have been apparent in his expression, for she said "What ails you?" to him.
"Nothing," he replied, turning away.
It was she who was making him feel schoolboyish again. She looked so capable and so assured, standing outside the byre-door, with a small crock in her hands, that he felt that she was many years older than he was, that she knew far more than he could hope to know for a long time....
She put the crock down and came close to him and took hold of his arm. "What ails you?" she said again, peering up into his face and smiling at him.
He looked at her with sulky eyes. "You're making fun of me," he said.
She shook his arm and pushed him. "G'long with you!" she said. "A big lump of a fella like you, actin' the chile!..." She picked up the crock and handed it to him. "Here," she said, "carry that into the house, will you, an' ask me aunt Kate to give you the full of it with yella male, an' then hurry back. I'll be up in the hayloft," she added, moving off.
3
He laid the crock of yellow meal down on a wooden box in the barn, and then climbed up the ladder to the hayloft.
"Wheesht," she said, holding up her hand. "There's a hen sittin' here, an' I don't want her disturbed!" He climbed into the loft as quietly as he could. "They'll soon be out now," she went on, "the lovely wee things!... What did you come here for, the day?"
"To see you!" he answered.
"Then that was a lie about comin' to see my Uncle Matt?"
He nodded his head.
"I thought as much. Sit down here by the side of me!"
He sat down on the hay where she bade him. "Are you angry with me?" he asked, making a wisp of hay.
"What would I be angry for?"
He did not know. Last night, perhaps, when he had kissed her?
"Oh, that!" she said. "Sure, that's nothin'!"
"Nothing?"
Why, then, had she left him so suddenly? She must have known how much he had to say to her....
"Look at the time it was!" she exclaimed. "An' me havin' to get up at five an' let the cows out.... You weren't up at no five, I'll bet!" He had risen at eight. "Eight!" she exclaimed. "That's no hour of the day to be risin'. If you were married to me, I'd make you skip long before that hour!"
Married to her!...
"Sheila," he whispered, taking hold of her arm.
"Well?" she said, thrusting a hay-stalk into his hair.
"I love you, Sheila!" he whispered, coming closer to her.
"Do you, indeed?" she answered.
"I do, Sheila, I do...."
He raised himself so that he was kneeling in front of her. His shyness had left him now, and the words were pouring rapidly out of his mouth.
"The minute I saw you in the door of the schoolroom that night, I was in love with you. I was, indeed!"
"Were you?"
"Yes. I couldn't help it, Sheila, and the worst of it was I didn't know what to say to you. And then, last night ... when we were walking up the 'loanie' together and I was holding your arm ... you know!... like this...." He took hold of her arm as he spoke and pressed it in his.... "I felt like ... like...."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Like anything. You will marry me, Sheila? You do love me?..."
She withdrew her arm from his and struck him lightly with a wisp of hay. "You're in a terrible hurry all of a sudden!" she said. "One minute you hardly know me, an' the next minute you're gettin' ready to be married to me. You're a despert wee fella!"
Wee fellow again!
"I'm not so very young," he said.
"What age are you?" she asked.
"I'm nearly seventeen," he replied.
She jumped up and stood over him. "God save us," she said, "that's the powerful age. You'd nearly bate Methusaleh!"
He stood up beside her. "Now, you're laughing at me again," he complained.
"No, I'm not," she answered.
She laid her hand on his shoulder and gripped it firmly, and stood thus, looking at him intently. Then she drew him into her arms and kissed him. "I like you quaren well," she said, holding him to her.
"Do you, Sheila?"
"Aye, of course I do, or I wouldn't be huggin' you like this, would I? Did you bring the yella male?"
He nodded his head. "It's down below," he said.
"Dear, oh, dear," she sighed. "I've wasted a terrible lot of time on you, Mr. Quinn!..."
"Call