s as
that in London, eh?"

"Only in Covent Garden," replied the visitor.

"What garden?--oh! ah! yes, I recollect, Covent Garden Market. Marrows
growing well, sir, arn't they?" he continued, pointing to the great
succulent plants trailing over the rocks. "My bees;" he pointed to five
straw hives. "You shall taste our honey. Wild thyme honey off the
cliff and moor. Very glad you've come, sir. But, I say," he added,
stopping short in the middle of the path, taking his pipe from his lips,
and sending a puff down first one nostril and then the other, "never
mind him, I'm master. You shall be my visitor to-day, eh?"

He chuckled and clapped Dick on the shoulder, pushing him half before
him down the stony, steppy path, and as he did so he turned his great
grey head and gave a most prodigious wink, accompanied by a screw up of
the face at Will, a look full of secrecy and scheming, all of which,
however, Will fully understood and felt relieved.

"It's very kind of you to a stranger," said the visitor.

"Not at all, my lad, not at all. You've come to live among us, and
we're very glad to see you. Here we are, here's my good lady--Mrs
Marion. I've got a visitor, my dear: Mr--Mr--what's your name?" he
whispered hastily.

"Richard Temple," said the lad, in the same tone.

"Ah, to be sure! my memory's getting bad. Mr Richard Temple, my dear.
Young gentleman from London. Come to have a cup of tea with us
to-night."

Aunt Ruth's first feeling was that it was a liberty to ask anyone to tea
without first obtaining her consent; her second, one of annoyance that
she had not put on her black silk that afternoon; her next, one of
pleasure, for the lad went up to her in a pleasant, frank, gentlemanly
way, and held out his hand, behaving towards the old lady with that
natural chivalry and courtesy that you always see in a boy who has been
much with a good mother and grown-up sisters.

"It's very kind of you to welcome me like this," he said; and, to Will's
great relief, Aunt Ruth smiled and felt ready to purr, and as if she
really had been welcoming the visitor very warmly. "Don't think me
rude," continued the lad, whose eager eyes kept wandering about, "but
I've just come from London, where everything seems so dark and grim; and
your cottage does look so beautiful, and clean, and snug."

"Well said, youngster!" cried Uncle Abram; "so it does. Our skipper
won't have a spot on anything or a bit of dust anywhere; eh, W