Mr. Torp turned his countenance toward his wife, a proceeding which seemed to announce to everyone round the table that he was too cautious even to commit himself to a word, until reassured as to what was expected of him.

“Just passing, and thought to look in,” repeated Mrs. Torp, avoiding her husband’s appeal.

“We seed three girt woppers down to Willum’s Mill. We dursn’t pull ’em out, cos Mr. Manley his own self were casting. He were fishing proper, he were. But Bob says maybe Mr. Manley won’t be at the job, come Monday. So then us’ll try again.”

These hurried words from young Lob eased the atmosphere a little.