and ask
her; she's down at Plum Corner, watching the people."

"So I wull," said Jack, looking out of the great bow window at the
mention of Plum Corner--he could just see the flutter of Amaryllis'
dress in the distance between the trees. That part of the garden was
called Plum Corner because of a famous plum tree--the one that had not
been pruned and was sprawling about the wall.

Mr. Iden had planted that plum tree specially for Mrs. Iden, because she
was so fond of a ripe luscious plum. But of late years he had not pruned
it.

"Vine ale!" said John, finishing his mug. "Extra vine ale!"

"It be, bean't it?" said Mr. Iden.

It really was humming stuff, but John well knew how proud Iden was of
it, and how much he liked to hear it praised.

The inhabitants of the City of London conceitedly imagine that no one
can be sharp-witted outside the sound of Bow Bells--country people are
stupid. My opinion is that clumsy Jack Duck, who took about half an hour
to write his name, was equal to most of them.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII.

THE ale being ended, Iden walked with him through the orchard.

"Famous wall that," said John, presently, nodding towards the great red
brick wall which adorned that side of the place. "Knowed how to build
walls in those days."

"No such wall as that anywhere about here," said Iden, as proud of his
wall as his ale. "No such bricks to be got. Folk don't know how to put
up a wall now--you read in the papers how the houses valls down in
Lunnon."

"Sort of cracks and comes in like--jest squashes up," said John.

"Now, that's a real bit of brickwork," said Iden. "That'll last--ah,
last----"

"No end to it," said John, who had admired the wall forty times before,
thinking to himself as he saw Amaryllis leaning over the corner,
"Blessed if I don't think as 'twas she as dropped summat on my hat."
This strengthened his hopes; he had a tolerably clear idea that Mr. and
Mrs. Iden were not averse to his suit; but he was doubtful about
Amaryllis herself.

Amaryllis had not the slightest idea Duck had so much as looked at
her--he called often, but seemed absorbed in the ale and gossip. Fancy
her scorn if she had guessed!

John Duck was considered one of the most eligible young men thereabouts,
for though by no means born in the purple of farming, it was believed he
was certain to be very "warm" indeed when his father died. Old Duck, the
son of a common labour