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Tolly flushed red to the tips of his toes. Caught gawping like a loutish schoolboy! Hopping down from his cart, he burrowed his toes in the loose dirt of the yard as he pulled his straw hat down low over his brow. Did I not teach you better than that! he could just hear his Gran whispering fiercely in his mind.
At a loss for words, he went to the rear of the cart and hefted a crate of smoked trout to his shoulders. ‘Nothing, m’am,’ he mumbled as he hurried toward the door. ‘Well, not “nothing” nothing…..that is….’ Oh, I am making quite the mess of this! he chided himself.
‘Name’s Tolly…..Tolly Bramble,’ he said, as he reached the kitchen entryway, clearing his throat. ‘Are you going in?’ He opened the door with his free hand. ‘After you, Mistress . . .’ His voice rose in a questioning tone.
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