Then again Joe would be full of odd, whimsical fun, outshining
Albert himself.
Miss Stokes still came to the station with the wain: Monkey-nuts,
Albert called her, though not to her face. For she was very clear and
good-looking, almost she seemed to gleam. And Albert was a tiny bit
afraid of her. She very rarely addressed Joe whilst the hay-loading was
going on, and that young man always turned his back to her. He seemed
thinner, and his limber figure looked more slouching. But still it had
the tender, attractive appearance, especially from behind. His tanned
face, a little thinned and darkened, took a handsome, slightly sinister
look.
'Come on, Joe!' the corporal urged sharply one day. 'What're you doing,
boy? Looking for beetles on the bank?'
Joe turned round swiftly, almost menacing, to work.
'He's a different fellow these days, Miss Stokes,' said Albert to the
young woman. 'What's got him? Is it Monkey nuts that don't suit him, do
you think?'
'Choked with chaff, more like,' she retorted. 'It's as bad as feeding a
threshing machine, to have to listen to some folks.'
'As bad as what?' said Albert. 'You don't mean me, do you, Miss Stokes?'
'No,' she cried. 'I don't mean you.'
Joe's face became dark red during these sallies, but he said nothing. He
would eye the young woman curiously, as she swung so easily at the work,
and he had some of the look of a dog which is going to bite.
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