and a head
appeared, covered by a rusty-black wideawake. It was the second time
that day that Lilac had seen it, for it was Peter Greenways' head. In a
moment all the events of the unlucky morning came back to her, and his
gruffly unfavourable opinion. Why had he come? This awkward Peter was
always turning up when he was not wanted, and thrusting that large
uncouth head in at unexpected places. She turned her back towards the
door in much vexation, and Peter himself remained stationary, with his
eyes fixed where he had first directed them--on his own boot, which
still stood on the table by Joshua's elbow. His first intention had
evidently been to come in, but suddenly seized with shyness he was now
unable to move.

"Why, Peter, lad," said the cobbler, "come in then; the boots is ready
for you."

Thus invited Peter slowly opened the door a very little wider and
squeezed himself into the room. He was indeed a very awkward-looking
youth, and though he was broad-shouldered and strongly made, he was so
badly put together that he did not seem to join properly anywhere, and
moved with effort as though he were walking in a heavy clay soil.
Everything about Peter, and even the colour of his clothes, made you
think of a ploughed field, and he generally kept his eyes fastened on
the ground as though following the course of a furrow. This was a pity,
for his eyes were the only good features in his broad red face, and had
the kindly faithful expression seen in those of some dogs.

As he stood there, ill at ease, with his enormous hands opening and
shutting nervously, Lilac thought of Agnetta's speech: "Peter's so
common." If to be common was to look like Peter, it was a thing to be
avoided, and she was dismayed to hear Uncle Joshua say:

"Well, now, if you're not just in time to go home with Lilac here,
seein' as how we've done our tea, and her mother'll be looking for her."

"Oh, Uncle, I'd rather not," said Lilac hastily. Then she added, "I
want you to play me a tune before I go."

Joshua was always open to a compliment about his playing.

"Ah!" he said, "you want a tune, do you? Well, and p'r'aps Peter he'd
like to hear it too."

As he spoke he gave the boots to Peter, who was now engaged in dragging
up a leather purse from some great depth beneath his gaberdine. This
effort, and the necessity of replying, flushed his face to a deeper red
than ever, but he managed to say huskily as he counted some coin into