rn and looked at him in silence with a
half-deprecating air was a middle-aged man, bearded and bare-headed. He
had thrown over his shoulders a piece of sacking, that hung from him
almost like a robe. The light that he carried threw heavy wavering
shadows about the stable, and Frank noticed the great head of a
cart-horse in the loose-box peering through the bars, as if to inquire
what the company wanted. Then, still without speaking, Frank let his
eyes rove round, and they stopped suddenly at the sight of yet one more
living being in the stable. Next to the loose-box was a stall, empty
except for one occupant; for there, sitting on a box with her back to
the manger and one arm flung along it to support her weight, was the
figure of a girl. Her head, wrapped in an old shawl, leaned back against
her arm, and a very white and weary face, absolutely motionless, looked
at him. She had great eyes, with shadows beneath, and her lips were half
opened. By her side lay a regular tramp's bundle.

Frank looked at her steadily a moment, then he looked back at the man,
who still had not moved or spoken. The draught from the door behind blew
in and shook the flame of his lantern, and the horse sighed long and
loud in the shadows behind. Once more Frank glanced at the girl; she had
lowered her arm from the manger and now sat looking at him, it seemed,
with a curious intentness and expectancy.

There was nothing to be said. Frank bowed a little, almost
apologetically, and went out.

Now that was absolutely all that happened. Frank says so expressly in
his diary. He did not speak to them, nor they to him; nor was any
explanation given on either side. He went out across the yard in
silence, seeing nothing of the farmer, but hearing a piano begin to play
beyond the brightly lighted windows, of which he could catch a glimpse
over the low wall separating the yard from the garden. He walked quickly
up the village street and caught up his companions, as he had said, less
than half a mile further on. He said nothing to them of his
experience--indeed, what was there to say?--but he must have written it
down that same night when they reached their next lodging, and written
it down, too, with that minuteness of detail which surprised me so much
when I first read it.

* * * * *

For the explanation of the whole thing is as foolishly obvious as was
that of the singing that the three had heard in the suburbs of
Pet