s. There was a quaint
circular mirror in a gilt frame over the hearth, a relic of former,
somewhat more prosperous times.

In one of the chairs lolled the mysterious lodger, whom a strange Fate
in a perverse mood seemed to have wafted to this isolated little cottage
on the outskirts of the loneliest village in Thanet.

Prince Amede d'Orleans was puffing at that strange weed which of late
had taken such marked hold of most men, tending to idleness in them, for
it caused them to sit staring at the smoke which they drew from pipes
made of clay; surely the Lord had never intended such strange doings,
and Mistress Martha would willingly have protested against the
unpleasant odor thus created by her lodger when he was puffing away,
only that she stood somewhat in awe of his ill-humor and of his violent
language, especially when Adam himself was from home.

On these occasions--such, for instance, as the present one--she had,
perforce, to be content with additional efforts at cleanliness, and, as
she was convinced that so much smoke must be conducive to soot and dirt,
she plied her dusting-cloth with redoubled vigor and energy. Whilst the
prince lolled and pulled at his clay pipe, she busied herself all round
the tiny room, polishing the backs of the old elm chairs, and the brass
handles of the chest of drawers.

"How much longer are you going to fuss about, my good woman?" quoth
Prince Amede d'Orleans impatiently after a while. "This shuffling round
me irritates my nerves."

Mistress Martha, however, suffered from deafness. She could see from the
quick, angry turn of the head that her lodger was addressing her, but
did not catch his words. She drew a little nearer, bending her ear to
him.

"Eh? ... what?" she queried in that high-pitched voice peculiar to the
deaf. "I am somewhat hard of hearing just now. I did not hear thee."

But he pushed her roughly aside with a jerk of his elbow.

"Go away!" he said impatiently. "Do not worry me!"

"Ah! the little pigs?" she rejoined blithely. "I thank thee ... they be
doing nicely, thank the Lord ... six of them and ... eh? what? ... I'm a
bit hard of hearing these times."

He had some difficulty in keeping up even a semblance of calm. The
placidity of the old Quakeress irritated him beyond endurance. He
dreaded the return of Adam Lambert from his work, and worse still, he
feared the arrival of Richard. Fortunately he had gathered from Martha
that the young man had come home