the shears right, miss—I knew you wouldn't know, the way—hold like this."
He relinquished the winch, and inclosing her two hands completely in his own (taking each as we sometimes clasp a child's hand in teaching him to write), grasped the shears with her. "Incline the edge so," he said.
Hands and shears were inclined to suit the words, and held thus for a peculiarly long time by the instructor as he spoke.
"That will do," exclaimed Bathsheba. "Loose my hands. I won't have them held! Turn the winch."
Gabriel freed her hands quietly, retired to his handle, and the grinding went on.
"Did the men think it odd?" she said again.
"Odd was not the idea, miss."
"What did they say?"
"That Farmer Boldwood's name and your own were likely to be flung over pulpit together before the year was out."
"I thought so by the look of them! Why, there's nothing in it. A more foolish remark was never made, and I want you to contradict it: that's what I came for."
Gabriel looked incredulous and sad, but between his movements of incredulity, relieved.
"They must have heard our conversation," she continued.
