dness fell from him as a garment.

"You may trust me, ma'am. Truly you may. Tell me only what I can do."

At this moment William Skin--a crab-apple of a man, whose infirmity of
deafness had long since reduced all the world for him to a vain
tolerable show, in which so much went unexplained that nothing caused
surprise--came stumbling around the corner of the house with a
waggon-rope and a second ladder, which he proceeded to rest alongside
the first one; showing the while no recognition of Cai's presence, even
by a nod.

"I want you," said Mrs Bosenna, "to invest a hundred pounds for me.
Oh!"--as Cai gave a start and glanced at Skin--"we may talk before him:
he's as deaf as a haddock."

"A hundred pounds?" queried Cai, still in astonishment.

"Yes; it's a sum I happen to have lyin' idle. At this moment it's in
the Bank, on deposit, where they give you something like two-and-a-half
only: and in the ordinary way I should put it into Egyptian three per
cents, or perhaps railways. My poor dear Samuel always had a great
opinion of Egypt, for some reason. He used to say how pleasant it was
in church to hear the parson readin' about Moses and the bulrushes, and
the plague of frogs and suchlike, and think he had money invested in
that very place, and how different it was in these days. Almost in his
last breath he was beggin' me to promise to stick to Egyptians, or at
any rate to something at three per cent and gilt-edged: because, you
see, he'd always managed all the business and couldn't believe that
women had any real sense in money affairs. . . . I didn't make any
promise, really; though in a sort of respect to his memory I've kept on
puttin' loose sums into that sort of thing. Three per cent is a silly
rate of interest, when all is said and done: but of course the poor dear
thought he was leavin' me all alone in the world, with no friend to
advise. . . ."

"I see," said Cai, his heart beginning to beat fast. "And it's
different now?"

"I--I was hopin' so," said Mrs Bosenna softly.

Cai glanced at the back of William Skin, who had started to hum--or
rather to croon--a tuneless song while knotting a rope to the second
ladder. No: it was impossible to say what he wished to say in the
presence of William Skin, confound him! Skin's deafness, Skin's
imperturbability, might have limits. . . .

"You wish me to advise you?" he controlled himself to ask.

"No, I don't. I wish you--if you'll do me the favour--j