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 mother's voice.

But that sounded so fearfully affected that she was ashamed, and stammered like a little girl, "Oh--er--have you come--is it about the marquee ?" "That's 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.

"That's 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 won't bite," their smile seemed to say.