He hesitated before replying.
"You'd rather not!" snapped out Miss Tranter--"I can see 'No' in your face.

Well, please yourself!" He looked at her.

Her lips were compressed in a thin line, and she wore a decidedly vexed expression.
"Ah, you think I don't want to work!" he said--"There you're wrong! But I haven't many years of life in me,--there's not much time left to do what I have to do,--and I must get on." "Get on, where ?" "To Cornwall." "Whereabouts in Cornwall ?" "Down by Penzance way." "You want to start off on the tramp again at once ?" "Yes." "All right, you must do as you like, I suppose,"-- and Miss Tranter sniffed whole volumes of meaning in one sniff--"But Farmer Joltram told me to say that if you wanted a light job up on his place,--that's about a mile from here,--- he wouldn't mind giving you a chance.

You'd get good victuals there, for he feeds his men well.

And I don't mind trusting you with a bit of gardening--you could make a shilling a day easy--so don't say you can't get work.