Ashurst, full length on the horsehair sofa, and jutting far beyond its
end, smoked a deeply-coloured pipe, and did not listen, thinking of the
girl's face when she brought in a relay of cakes. It had been exactly
like looking at a flower, or some other pretty sight in Nature-till,
with a funny little shiver, she had lowered her glance and gone out,
quiet as a mouse.
"Let's go to the kitchen," said Garton, "and see some more of her."
The kitchen was a white-washed room with rafters, to which were attached
smoked hams; there were flower-pots on the window-sill, and guns hanging
on nails, queer mugs, china and pewter, and portraits of Queen Victoria.
A long, narrow table of plain wood was set with bowls and spoons, under
a string of high-hung onions; two sheep-dogs and three cats lay here and
there. On one side of the recessed fireplace sat two small boys, idle,
and good as gold; on the other sat a stout, light-eyed, red-faced youth
with hair and lashes the colour of the tow he was running through the
barrel of a gun; between them Mrs. Narracombe dreamily stirred some
savoury-scented stew in a large pot. Two other youths, oblique-eyed,
dark-haired, rather sly-faced, like the two little boys, were
talking together and lolling against the wall; and a short, elderly,
clean-shaven man in corduroys, seated in the window, was conning a
battered journal.
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