ace fell, and he, too,
looked at the girl.

Finding their eyes upon her, she was compelled to speak.

"Mr. Fogo wudn' care for the likes o' what we cou'd offer him," she
said. Then, seeing the pain on the men's faces, she added with an
effort to be gracious, "But ef he can put up wi' us, he knows he
shall be made welcome."

She did not look up, and her voice, in which the peculiar sing-song
of Trojan intonation was intentionally emphasised, sounded so
strangely that still greater amazement fell upon the Twins.

"Why, Tamsin, I niver knawed 'ee i' this mood afore," stammered Paul.

"I assure you," interposed Mr. Fogo, "that I value your hospitality
more than I can say, and shall not forget it. But it would be absurd
to accept it when I am so near home. If one of you would consent to
row me down to Kit's House, it would be the exact kindness I should
prefer."

The Twins assented, though not without regret at his refusal to
accept more. Paul agreed to row him down, and the two started in the
early twilight. As he shook Peter's hand, Mr. Fogo looked at Tamsin.

"Good-night," he said.

"Good-night, sir."

She did not offer to shake hands; she scarcely even looked up, but
stood there before the chimney-place, with the fire-light outlining
her form and throwing into deep shadow the side of her face that was
towards him. One arm was thrown up to grasp the mantelshelf, and
against this her head rested. The other hung listlessly at her side.
And this was the picture Mr. Fogo carried out into the grey evening.

As the door closed upon him, Peter sank into the stiff-backed chair
beside the hearth with a puzzled sigh.

"Why, Tamsin," he said, as he slowly drew out his pipe and filled it,
"what ailed 'ee, girl, to behave like that?"

Looking up, he saw a tear, and then a second, drop brightly on the
hearth-stone.

"Little maid!"

Before he could say more she had stepped to him, and, sitting on the
chair-arm, had flung her arms around his neck and drawn his head
towards her, that he might not look into her face.

"I hate him," she sobbed--"I hate him! I wish I had never seen him.
He despises us, and--and I was so happy before he came."

The Twin set down his pipe upon his knee, and stared into the fire.

"As for hatin', Tamsin," he said gravely, "'tain't right. Us shud
love our neighbours, Scriptur' says; an' I reckon that includes
tenants. I' the matter o' hes despisin' us, I dunno as you'm right
nuth