pg28948 [52]
Anna was rather troubled by the strangely intimate, affectionate way her father had towards this young man. He seemed gentle towards him, he put himself aside in order to fill out the young man. This irritated Anna.
"Father," she said abruptly, "give me some collection."
"What collection?" asked Brangwen.
"Don't be ridiculous," she cried, flushing.
"Nay," he said, "what collection's this?"
"You know it's the first Sunday of the month."
Anna stood confused. Why was he doing this, why was he making her conspicuous before this stranger?
"I want some collection," she reasserted.
"So tha says," he replied indifferently, looking at her, then turning again to this nephew.
She went forward, and thrust her hand into his breeches pocket. He smoked steadily, making no resistance, talking to his nephew. Her hand groped about in his pocket, and then drew out his leathern purse. Her colour was bright in her clear cheeks, her eyes shone. Brangwen's eyes were twinkling. The nephew sat sheepishly. Anna, in her finery, sat down and slid all the money into her lap. There was silver and gold. The youth could not help watching her. She was bent over the heap of money, fingering the different coins.
"I've a good mind to take half a sovereign," she said, and she looked up with glowing dark eyes. She met the light-brown eyes of her cousin, close and intent upon her. She was startled. She laughed quickly, and turned to her father.
"I've a good mind to take half a sovereign, our Dad," she said.
"Yes, nimble fingers," said her father. "You take what's your own."
"Are you coming, our Anna?" asked her brother from the door.
She suddenly chilled to normal, forgetting both her father and her cousin.
"Yes, I'm ready," she said, taking sixpence from the heap of money and sliding the rest back into the purse, which she laid on the table.
"Give it here," said her father.
Hastily she thrust the purse into his pocket and was going out.
"You'd better go wi' 'em, lad, hadn't you?" said the father to the nephew.
Will Brangwen rose uncertainly. He had golden-brown, quick, steady eyes, like a bird's, like a hawk's, which cannot look afraid.
"Your Cousin Will 'll come with you," said the father.
Anna glanced at the strange youth again. She felt him waiting there for her to notice him. He was hovering on the edge of her consciousness, ready to come in. She did not want to look at him. She was antagonistic to him.
She waited without speaking. Her cousin took his hat and joined her. It was summer outside. Her brother Fred was plucking a sprig of flowery currant to put in his coat, from the bush at the angle of the house. She took no notice. Her cousin followed just behind her.
They were on the high road. She was aware of a strangeness in her being. It made her uncertain. She caught sight of the flowering currant in her brother's buttonhole.
"Oh, our Fred," she cried. "Don't wear that stuff to go to church."
Fred looked down protectively at the pink adornment on his breast.
"Why, I like it," he said.
"Then you're the only one who does, I'm sure," she said.
And she turned to her cousin.
"Do you like the smell of it?" she asked.
He was there beside her, tall and uncouth and yet self-possessed. It excited her.
"I can't say whether I do or not," he replied.
"Give it here, Fred, don't have it smelling in church," she said to the little boy, her page.
Her fair, small brother handed her the flower dutifully. She sniffed it and gave it without a word to her cousin, for his judgment. He smelled the dangling flower curiously.
"It's a funny smell," he said.
And suddenly she laughed, and a quick light came on all their faces, there was a blithe trip in the small boy's walk.
The bells were ringing, they were going up the summery hill in their Sunday clothes. Anna was very fine in a silk frock of brown and white stripes, tight along the arms and the body, bunched up very elegantly behind the skirt. There was something of the cavalier about Will Brangwen,