"Hello," she said, confident she was the favourite, when she came upon Mr Rock in shirtsleeves, clumsily using his hatchet on a block.
He straightened up. The old face cracked into a real smile. She saw he was not wearing teeth, also that he could do with a shave.
"Well?" he asked. She came close, to let him take her in.
"Why don't you use the tree Mr Birt found Merode under?" she asked.
"Not dead enough," he said.
"But you'd have more wood. You are silly," she said, while he examined her youth. It made him think of a ripe plum, on a hot day, against green leaves on a wall.
"Mr Birt found her. There's a laugh," she began again. They stood watching each other comfortably.
"How d'you look so cool?" he asked.
"He would," she said about the finding. When this drew no comment she went on in a lazy way, "Because I'm not hot, not yet, silly. I don't wear all the clothes you do," she added, shifting the position of her hip.
He had a fallen branch to cut into faggots, and he set to work once more.
"Let me help," she said, though she made no move forward. When he did not answer, she repeated, "Let me." He's a hundred if he's a day, she said to herself.
"Just leave an old fellow get on with what he's about," he said.
"All that wood's for Daise, isn't it?" she asked. "Well, I'm not stopping anyone."
"Yes, for Daisy's swill," he answered. "To boil it. Too many won't trouble, which is the cause of so much of this filthy swine fever." She nibbled at one of the azaleas in her arms. She knew she made a picture, but he paid no attention. She waved away a bee.
"Have you seen your cat?" she enquired.
"No. She's all right I trust?" he said, not looking up.
"Oh, in her glory," the girl replied. "At the Institute, of course, with Ma Marchbanks. She'd better look out for herself, though. The Marchbanks mayn't know it, but Edge and Baker's back."
"Are they. .?" he asked, and drew himself up to his full height, but checked his tongue in time. "Why, what about my animal?"
"They don't like pussy cats, those two, do they?" she answered.
"Two faced, cats are," he said, watching her closely. She took a whole azalea right into her mouth. "Cupboard love," he said, and wiped his spectacles.
"Why shouldn't I, if I want. They taste good," she said, after she had got rid of the flower into a hand and dropped it behind her back.
"Not you," he said.
"Cats."
"What's cupboard love, exactly?" she asked, knowing full well, but to cover herself.
"Greed, that's all."
"You are queer, Mr Rock," she said.
There was a pause while he put his spectacles on once more. "Have they come upon the other girl yet?" the old man enquired, getting on with his task. "Or why have they returned?"
"Mary, oh I know where she is," Moira told him.
"Where's that?" Mr Rock quietly demanded.
"She's down under water in the lake of course," the girl said.
"Is she now?" this old man commented, but did not look up from what he was at. "Have you been to see?"
She gave a small, affected shriek. "Me? Who d'you think I am? Oh, I simply couldn't."
"Then how d'you come by your information?"
"That's easy," the girl said. "Winstanley asked permission for the staff to bathe as today's a holiday, and Ma Marchbanks said better not, because Mary was drowned in it."
"When did you learn?" he enquired, selecting another stick to chop.
"Why everyone's heard." A silence fell.
"Where's George Adams at work?" Mr Rock asked next.
"He's to fetch the pine trees she wants round the Hall for tonight. We're to put salt over to look like snow. Only Miss Edge won't be so keen. Why?"
"Because in that case I should have thought he would be better employed if he dragged the water," Mr Rock said. He was watching the girl now.
"Oh Mr Rock you are dreadful, really," she cried out. "The horrible things you think."
"Dear, dear," he said, and bent down again. There was a pause.
"What did you make of it when Mr Birt found Merode?" she once more asked, with a giggle. He made no reply.
"She told me all," she went on. "You see, they'd locked her into the bathrooms so she could have a good cry, you know what a tremendous cry baby she is, but there's a grating on the floor above, or there's two, one above and one underneath. Anyway Matron hasn't discovered yet, so I was able to get on to Merode."
"Moira," he said uneasily, "you'll grow up an old maid."
She laughed out loud. "Me?" she said. "I don't think," largely understating this. "Why, Mr Rock?"
"Because you will."
"No, why?"
"All this chitter chatter."
"But I'm only explaining what happened, aren't I? No she, that's Merode, confessed up she'd gone out at night to meet him. Lots of the girls do."
"Oh? Go out to meet Sebastian Birt?" His voice was sharp.
"Oh, why Mr Birt specially? But they do at night."
"But how do you know?" Mr Rock asked. The jealousy he felt over this man obscured his judgement, so that he was not sure what to believe.
"That's easy," the girl replied. "He said he was off to London last night, for the holiday, then stayed after all."
"Who told you? Was it Merode?"
"I said, didn't I? Marion's senior girl at orderly duty today, and Mrs Blain said so. Which reminds me. You mustn't keep me here to pass along the news the way you are. I'm due back in the kitchen. I might tell you it's hard work jollying Mrs Blain, with all she's got on."
"Why do you say Miss Baker and Miss Edge are back?"
"Because I saw them come up the drive. Is that good enough for once? But they didn't see me, no thank you."
"Well, well. They missed a sight then, didn't they, Moira?"
"Oh you are dreadful this morning. Now I'll ask you a question. Where's Dan?"
"Who?"
"I mean Ted."
"The goose? She's fed. It was a good thing I had plenty."
"Why, how's that?"
"Because she's down by the water, this minute, if I know much of Ted," Mr Rock said.
She gave another little shriek.
"Mr Rock that's foul," she cried.
"Grubbing about," he added.
"I shan't stay if you're like this. All you ever want is to give me creeps," she said.
"You'll stay," he countered.
"Why, how's that?" she repeated, making no move to depart.
"You told me you'd have to get back a long while since."
There was a pause while she pouted. But he did not bother to notice.
"Will you come to the dance tonight?" she asked, in a small voice.
"I might," he said.
"Because, if you did, I'd sit one out with you."
"That's a more sensible suggestion than saying you'd spare me a dance." He chopped harder at the branch.
"Because, if you did, I might even give you a kiss," she continued. The chopping stopped. But he did not look up.
"There's an absurd idea," he said loudly. "If you want to know I've completely forgotten about it."
"I mean what I promise," she insisted.
"All I intended to convey," he said, frightened and embarrassed, "was, thank God, I've reached an age when I've long since forgotten everything to do with all such nonsense. Now do you understand?"
"No," she answered.
"Then why not?"
"Because I bet you haven't really," she said. He went on with his work rather fast.
"Well, well," he tried to pass it off, uneasily.
"I don't know what else a girl can promise," she suggested. He let this go.
Then she began again. She dropped her voice to a whisper, so that he unwillingly stopped work to catch what was said through the disfiguring deafness.
"Now this is really secret," she informed him. "Have you heard about Mr Adams?"
"Look, Moira, I'm not here to chatter with students."
"Oh, if someone doesn't want to listen, I can't make them, can I?"