"His thoughts
be of other cheeks than thine!" Retty Priddle still looked, and the others looked again.
"There he is again!" cried Izz Huett, the pale girl with dark damp
hair and keenly cut lips. "You needn't say anything, Izz," answered Retty. "For I zid you
kissing his shade."
"WHAT did you see her doing?" asked Marian.
"Why--he was standing over the whey-tub to let off the whey, and the
shade of his face came upon the wall behind, close to Izz, who was
standing there filling a vat. She put her mouth against the wall and
kissed the shade of his mouth; I zid her, though he didn't."
"O Izz Huett!" said Marian. A rosy spot came into the middle of Izz Huett's cheek.
"Well, there was no harm in it," she declared, with attempted
coolness. "And if I be in love wi'en, so is Retty, too; and so be
you, Marian, come to that."
Marian's full face could not blush past its chronic pinkness. "I!" she said.
"What a tale! Ah, there he is again! Dear
eyes--dear face--dear Mr Clare!"
"There--you've owned it!"
"So have you--so have we all," said Marian, with the dry frankness of
complete indifference to opinion. "It is silly to pretend otherwise
amongst ourselves, though we need not own it to other folks. I would
just marry 'n to-morrow!"
"So would I--and more," murmured Izz Huett. "And I too," whispered the more timid Retty. The listener grew warm. "We can't all marry him," said Izz.
"We shan't, either of us; which is worse still," said the eldest.
"There he is again!"
They all three blew him a silent kiss. "Why?" asked Retty quickly.
"Because he likes Tess Durbeyfield best," said Marian, lowering her
voice. "I have watched him every day, and have found it out." T
here was a reflective silence. "But she don't care anything for 'n?" at length breathed Retty.
"Well--I sometimes think that too."
"But how silly all this is!" said Izz Huett impatiently. "Of course
he won't marry any one of us, or Tess either--a gentleman's son,
who's going to be a great landowner and farmer abroad! More likely
to ask us to come wi'en as farm-hands at so much a year!"
One sighed, and another sighed, and Marian's plump figure sighed
biggest of all. Somebody in bed hard by sighed too. Tears came into
the eyes of Retty Priddle, the pretty red-haired youngest--the last
bud of the Paridelles, so important in the county annals. They
watched silently a little longer, their three faces still close
together as before, and the triple hues of their hair mingling. But
the unconscious Mr Clare had gone indoors, and they saw him no more;
and, the shades beginning to deepen, they crept into their beds.
In a few minutes they heard him ascend the ladder to his own room.
Marian was soon snoring, but Izz did not drop into forgetfulness for
a long time. Retty Priddle cried herself to sleep.