morrow morning."

"Humph!" grunted Uncle Paul.

"You see, sir, I did think that you'd bring home enough trout this
evening to do for your breakfast too, and I am afraid there's nothing
but ham and eggs. Would you mind them?"

"I'll tell you to-morrow morning, madam," said Uncle Paul.

"Then if you wouldn't mind, sir--I don't want to hurry you and the young
gentleman--but it's my time, and if you will excuse me I'll say
good-night."

"Good-night, Mrs Champernowne; good-night, and pleasant rest to you,"
said Uncle Paul heartily, "and--Yes? You were going to say something?"

"If you wouldn't mind, sir, being sure that the candles are well out."

"Oh, of course; of course."

"And it's a very hot night, sir."

"Yes, madam; we have found that out."

"So if you'll be kind enough to shut and slip the bolt of the front door
I'll leave it for you to do so when you go up to bed."

"Certainly, Mrs Champernowne, certainly. Once more, good-night."

Their landlady smiled benevolently on both, and the next minute they
heard the little old staircase creaking beneath her tread, this being
followed by the cracking of the boards in the little room over the
kitchen, the visitors both listening till all was silent again.

Somehow as Rodd sat opposite to his uncle, his head seemed to be
unusually heavy, and he rested more and more upon his two thumbs, which
he had placed for support beneath his chin.

There was a faint pinging sound, the trumpeting of a gnat flitting about
the room, and then the deep boom of a beetle somewhere outside the open
window. There was a hot delicious odour, too, floating in over the
flowers in the garden, a portion of whose scent the warm air seemed to
be taking up to mingle with that which it had swept off the moor.

And then as Rodd listened and gazed across the table between the two
candles, whose tops were growing tiny brown mushrooms as they silently
asked to be snuffed, it seemed to the boy that his uncle's face looked
dim and misty, and then that it swelled and swelled and began to float
up like a faintly seen balloon, till it died right away. And all was
still but the _um-um-um_ of the great beetle or chafer which had passed
in through the window, and began circling round just below the
whitewashed ceiling, against which its wings brushed from time to time
with a faint fizz, till all at once Rodd started up, for his uncle
exclaimed--

"Why, Pickle, what are you about?"

"I--I--nothi