ou makes 'em ... 'cept it be comets an' things."

Now what could anybody make of that? I carried the child home, and she
did not wake when I undressed her and put her to bed.

CHAPTER XIV

BARJONA FALLS INTO THE TRAP

"Arternoon, miss!"

It certainly was afternoon, for only a few minutes earlier the little
clock in my studio had chimed three, and I was not in the least
expecting visitors, particularly of the paying kind, and was hard at
work upon the accumulated negatives of Whitweek, when the blunt
ejaculation caused me to turn with a start. My astonished eyes fell
upon a transformed Barjona!

Barjona in a frock coat of modern cut, with a white waistcoat, and
slate-coloured trousers, correctly creased! Barjona, with a starched
shirt and a satin tie, vividly blue! Above all, Barjona in a silk hat,
which he was at that moment carefully removing from his head, as though
anxious to prevent the escape of some bird imprisoned within!

It was not a bird, however, that he captured and produced, but an
elaborate "button-hole," properly wired, as one could see at a glance,
and with its stems wrapped in silvered paper; and Barjona chuckled as
he stepped to the mirror and adjusted it in the lapel of his coat.

"Took that out quick, I can tell you.... Gives the show away, that
does ... thought once over I'd throw it in t' gutter ... but I says,
'Nay, it cost fourpence' ... sixpence she asked for it ... sixpence ...
mustn't waste it ... smarten up my photygraph, too.... No, no, mustn't
waste fourpence!"

"Why, Mr. Higgins," I exclaimed, "you must surely have been to a
wedding! But none of our friends in Windyridge have been getting
married to-day, have they?"

"No, no ... Marsland Gap ... widow-woman ... name o' Robertsha' ... now
Mrs. Higgins ... Mrs. S. B. Higgins ... she's in the trap now," jerking
his head towards the roadway.

This was too much for my gravity. I had just enough presence of mind
to shake hands with him and offer my congratulations, and then gave way
to uncontrollable laughter.

"It's your own fault, Mr. Higgins," I blurted out at length. "Last
October you told me that you were too old a fox to be caught again;
there were to be no traps for you, and when you said Mrs. Higgins was
in the trap it amused me vastly."

"Meanin' the cart, of course," he interrupted, looking somewhat
sheepish, but still sufficiently pleased with himself.

"I know," I replied, "but I was just wondering ho