Four men in their shirt-sleeves stood grouped together on the garden path. They carried staves covered with rolls of canvas, and they had big tool-bags slung on their backs. They looked impressive. Laura wished now that she had not got the bread-and-butter, but there was nowhere to put it, and she couldnt possibly throw it away. She blushed and tried to look severe and even a little bit short-sighted as she came up to them.
Good morning, she said, copying her mothers voice. But that sounded so fearfully affected that she was ashamed, and stammered like a little girl, Oherhave you comeis it about the marquee?
Thats right, miss, said the tallest of the men, a lanky, freckled fellow, and he shifted his tool-bag, knocked back his straw hat and smiled down at her. Thats about it.
His smile was so easy, so friendly that Laura recovered. What nice eyes he had, small, but such a dark blue! And now she looked at the others, they were smiling too. Cheer up, we wont bite, their smile seemed to say. How very nice workmen were! And what a beautiful morning! She mustnt mention the morning; she must be business-like. The marquee.
Well, what about the lily-lawn? Would that do?
And she pointed to the lily-lawn with the hand that didnt hold the bread-and-butter. They turned, they stared in the direction. A little fat chap thrust out his under-lip, and the tall fellow frowned.
I dont fancy it, said he. Not conspicuous enough. You see, with a thing like a marquee, and he turned to Laura in his easy way, you want to put it somewhere where itll give you a bang slap in the eye, if you follow me.
Lauras upbringing made her wonder for a moment whether it was quite respectful of a workman to talk to her of bangs slap in the eye. But she did quite follow him.
A corner of the tennis-court, she suggested. But the bands going to be in one corner.
Hm, going to have a band, are you? said another of the workmen. He was pale. He had a haggard look as his dark eyes scanned the tennis-court. What was he thinking?