They ran, hand in hand, the wet mackintoshes flapping and slapping about their knees, and drew up laughing and breathless in the dry quiet of the shed. Vernon thought of Love and Mr. Lewisham, but it was not the moment to say so.
"See, they are quite pleased to see us," said he, "they don't say a word against our sheltering here. The plough looks a bit glum, but she'll grow to like us presently. As for harrow, look how he's smiling welcome at you with all his teeth."
"I'm glad he can't come forward to welcome us," said Betty. "His teeth look very fierce."
"He could, of course, only he's enchanted. He used to be able to move about, but now he's condemned to sit still and only smile till--till he sees two perfectly happy people. Are you perfectly happy?" he asked anxiously.
"I don't know," said Betty truly. "Are you?"
"No--not quite perfectly."
"I'm so glad," said Betty. "I shouldn't like the harrow to begin to move while we're here. I'm sure it would bite us."
He sighed and looked grave. "So you don't want me to be perfectly happy?"
She looked at him with her head on one side.
"Not here," she said. "I can't trust that harrow."
His eyelids narrowed over his eyes--then relaxed. No, she was merely playing at enchanted harrows.
"Are you cold still?" he asked, and reached for her hand. She gave it frankly.
"Not a bit," she said, and took it away again. "The run warmed me. In fact--"
She unbuttoned the mackintosh and spread it on the bar of the plough and sat down. Her white dress lighted up the shadows of the shed. Outside the rain fell steadily.
"May I sit down too? Can Mrs. Plough find room for two children on her lap?"
She drew aside the folds of her dress, but even then only a little space was left. The plough had been carelessly housed and nearly half of it was where the rain drove in on it. So that they were very close together.
So close that he had to throw his head back to see clearly how the rain had made the short hair curl round her forehead and ears, and how fresh were the tints of face and lips. Also he had to support himself by an arm stretched out behind her. His arm was not round her, but it might just as well have been, as far as the look of the thing went. He thought of the arm of Mr. Lewisham.