There was a sense of
silence inside the house and out. Miriam seemed as in some dreamy tale,
a maiden in bondage, her spirit dreaming in a land far away and magical.
And her discoloured, old blue frock and her broken boots seemed only
like the romantic rags of King Cophetua's beggar-maid.

She suddenly became aware of his keen blue eyes upon her, taking her all
in. Instantly her broken boots and her frayed old frock hurt her. She
resented his seeing everything. Even he knew that her stocking was not
pulled up. She went into the scullery, blushing deeply. And afterwards
her hands trembled slightly at her work. She nearly dropped all she
handled. When her inside dream was shaken, her body quivered with
trepidation. She resented that he saw so much.

Mrs. Leivers sat for some time talking to the boy, although she was
needed at her work. She was too polite to leave him. Presently she
excused herself and rose. After a while she looked into the tin
saucepan.

"Oh DEAR, Miriam," she cried, "these potatoes have boiled dry!"

Miriam started as if she had been stung.

"HAVE they, mother?" she cried.

"I shouldn't care, Miriam," said the mother, "if I hadn't trusted them
to you." She peered into the pan.

The girl stiffened as if from a blow. Her dark eyes dilated; she
remained standing in the same spot.

"Well," she answered, gripped tight in self-conscious shame, "I'm sure I
looked at them five minutes since."

"Yes," said the mother, "I know it's easily done."

"They're not much burned," said Paul. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

Mrs. Leivers looked at the youth with her brown, hurt eyes.

"It wouldn't matter but for the boys," she said to him. "Only Miriam
knows what a trouble they make if the potatoes are 'caught'."

"Then," thought Paul to himself, "you shouldn't let them make a
trouble."

After a while Edgar came in. He wore leggings, and his boots were
covered with earth. He was rather small, rather formal, for a farmer. He
glanced at Paul, nodded to him distantly, and said:

"Dinner ready?"

"Nearly, Edgar," replied the mother apologetically.

"I'm ready for mine," said the young man, taking up the newspaper and
reading. Presently the rest of the family trooped in. Dinner was served.
The meal went rather brutally. The over-gentleness and apologetic tone
of the mother brought out all the brutality of manners in the sons.
Edgar tasted the potatoes, moved his mouth quickly like a rabbit, looked
indignant