They were standing with the sunset light behind them, as a glory—­two disreputable figures, such as one sees in countless thousands along all the high-roads of England in the summer.  The Major himself was a lean man, with a red mustache turning gray, deep-set, narrow, blood-shot eyes, a chin and very square jaw shaved about two days previously.  He had an old cricketing cap on his head, trousers tied up with string, like Frank’s, and one of those long, square-tailed, yellowish coats with broad side-pockets such as a gamekeeper might have worn twenty years ago.  One of his boots was badly burst, and he, seemed to rest his weight by preference on the other foot.  He was not prepossessing; but Frank saw, with his newly-gained experience, that he was different from other tramps.  He glanced at the girl and saw that she too was not quite of the regular type, though less peculiar than her companion; and he noticed with an odd touch at his heart that she had certain characteristics in common with Jenny.  She was not so tall, but she had the same colored hair under a filthy white sun-bonnet and the same kind of blue eyes:  but her oval face again was weak and rather miserable.  They were both deeply sunburned.

Frank had learned the discretion of the roads by now, and did no more than jerk his head almost imperceptibly as he went past. (He proposed to go back to the farm to get his dwindled belongings, as the job was over, and to move on a few miles northward before sleeping.)

As he went, however, he knew that the man had turned and was looking after him:  but he made no sign.  He had no particular desire for company.  He also knew by instinct, practically for certain, that these two were neither husband and wife, nor father and daughter.  The type was obvious.

“I say, sir!”

Frank turned as bucolically as he could.

“I say, sir—­can you direct this lady and myself to a lodging?”

Frank had tried to cultivate a low and characterless kind of voice, as of a servant or a groom out of work.  He knew he could never learn the proper accent.

“Depends on what kind of lodging you want, sir.”

“What’d suit you ’ud suit us,” said the Major genially, dropping the “sir.”

“I’m going further, sir,” said Frank.  “I’ve done my job here.”

The Major turned to the girl, and Frank caught the words, “What d’you say, Gertie?” There was a murmur of talk; and then the man turned to him again: 

“If you’ve no objection, sir, we’ll come with you.  My good lady here is good for a mile or two more, she says, and we’d like some company.”

Frank hesitated.  He did not in the least wish for company himself.  He glanced at the girl again.

“Very good, sir,” he said.  “Then if you’ll wait here I’ll be back in five minutes—­I’ve got to get my belongings.”

He nodded to the low farm buildings in the valley just below the village.