exclaimed Dinah.

Mrs Bosenna turned with the prettiest start of surprise, and sprang to
her feet. If there was a suspicion--a shade--of overacting, the
twilight concealed it. She had a charming figure, very supple and
maidenly: she bought her corsets in London. The kneeling posture and
the swift rise from it were alike noticeably graceful, even in the dusk.

"Visitors?" she echoed. "And me in this state to receive 'em, earthed
up to the wrists!" She plucked off her gardening-gloves, handed them to
Dinah, and stooped to snatch up one of a pair of white cuffs--badges of
her widowhood--that she had laid aside on the turf before starting to
work. While slipping it over her wrist she found time to glance up at
Captain Cai, who fumbled confusedly with the rim of his tall hat.

"Excuse me, madam--no wish to intrude. We'll take ourselves off this
minute, eh?" He turned to the child, who, however, did not budge.

"Please, don't go. You are--?"

"Caius Hocken, ma'am--of the _Hannah Hoo_--at your service."

"Dear me, what a very pleasant surprise!" (Oh, Mrs Bosenna!) She held
out a hand. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Captain Hocken."

"I hope I see you well, ma'am?" Captain Cai took the hand and dropped it
nervously.

"Quite well, I thank God. . . . They told me your ship had arrived, sir;
but I could not count--could I?--on your coming to inspect the house so
soon."

"If I've been over hasty, ma'am--"

"Not at all," she interrupted. "There now! I put things so clumsily at
times! I meant to excuse _myself_; for, you see, the house has been
yours since Lady-day--that's to say, if you sign the lease,--and
Lady-day's more than a week past. So 'tis _I_ that am the intruder.
. . .But passing the garden yesterday, I'd a notion that half a dozen
dwarf roses would improve it, without your knowledge. You're not
offended, I hope, now that you've caught me? I dote on roses, for my
part."

"I--I take it very kindly, ma'am."

"'Tis a funny time o' the year to be plantin' roses, isn't it?" asked
Fancy.

"Eh?" In the dusk Mrs Bosenna treated her to a disapproving stare.
"Is that Elijah Tabb's child? . . . You've grown such a lot lately, I
hardly recognised you."

"I noticed that," said the child with composure, "though I didn't guess
the reason. But 'tis a funny time to be plantin' roses, all the same."

"And pray, child, what do you know about roses?"

"Nothing," answered Fancy, "'cept that 'tis a