He stood leaning on a plank he had taken hold of, listening to sounds which his imagination interpreted for him so pleasantly that the keen strong face became suffused with a timid tenderness.

The light footstep moved about the kitchen, followed by the sound of the sweeping brush, hardly making so much noise as the lightest breeze that chases the autumn leaves along the dusty path; and Adam's imagination saw a dimpled face, with dark bright eyes and roguish smiles looking backward at this brush, and a rounded figure just leaning a little to clasp the handle.

A very foolish thought--it could not be Hetty; but the only way of dismissing such nonsense from his head was to go and see WHO it was, for his fancy only got nearer and nearer to belief while he stood there listening.

He loosed the plank and went to the kitchen door.
"How do you do, Adam Bede ?" said Dinah, in her calm treble, pausing from her sweeping and fixing her mild grave eyes upon him.

"I trust you feel rested and strengthened again to bear the burden and heat of the day." It was like dreaming of the sunshine and awaking in the moonlight.