Rob couldn't help but smile at her reaction to his offering.
"No, not at all, lass," he insisted. It wasn't a difficulty when it was what you were used to. "Well, not as hard you'd think," he insisted.
"I'm the miller, so I have a plentiful supply of flour for baking," he told her, explaining the scones. "The milk and butter are from Tavendale's farm, just down the way, we just trade each other. I mill his corn, he gives me dairy. The jam is from Mrs Ellison's kitchen. The sugar's from the grocer, mind, but we might as well have it as long as it lasts," he insisted, as he poured out the tea. There was no point in the war taking away every little pleasure.