“Because it’s such an inconvenient vice to those that have anything to lose,” said Miss Christie.

“Yes, that’s just it, ma’am.  You see the vices and virtues have got overhauled again, and sorted differently to suit our convenience.  Stealing’s no worse probly in the eyes of our Maker than lying and slandering; not so bad, mayhap, as a deep sweer.  But folks air so tenacious like, they must have every stick and stone respected that they reckon theirs.”

“We shouldn’t hear ye talking in this pheelosophical way,” said Miss Christie, “if yere new potatoes had been stolen last night, before ye got them to the show.”

Laura took a glance at the gardener, as, with all the ease of intimacy, he leaned in at the window and gave his opinion on things in general.  He was hale, and looked about sixty years of age.  He was dressed in his Sunday suit, and wore an orange bandana handkerchief loosely tied round his neck.  He had keen grey eyes.  Joseph’s eyes were dark and large, and Joseph was taller, and had a straighter nose.

“Swan’s quite right,” remarked Valentine; “we are a great deal too tenacious about our belongings.  Now I’ve heard of a fellow who was waiting about, to horsewhip another fellow, and when this last came out he had a cane in his hand.  His enemy snatched it from him, and laid it about his back as much as he liked, split it and broke it on him, and then carried off the bits.  Now what would you have done, Swan, in such a case?”

“Well, sir, in which case?  I can’t consider anyhow as I could be in the case of him that was whipped.”

“I mean what would you have done about the cane?—­the property?  A magistrate had to decide.  The man that had been horsewhipped said the other had spoilt his cane, which was as good as new, and then had stolen it.  The other said he did not carry off the cane till it had been so much used that it was good for nothing, and he didn’t call that stealing.”

“Well, sir,” said Mr. Swan, observing a smile on the face of one and another, “I think I’ll leave that there magistrate to do the best he can with that there case, and I’ll abide by his decision.”

“When ye come out in the character of Apollo,” said Miss Christie to Valentine, “ye should compose yourself into a grander attitude, and not sit all of a heap while ye’re drawing the long-bow.  Don’t ye agree with me, Mrs. Melcombe?”

Mrs. Melcombe looked up and smiled uneasily; but the gardener had no uncomfortable surmises respecting her, as she had respecting him, and when he caught her eye he straightened himself up, and said with pleasant civility, while putting on his hat on purpose to touch it and take it off again, “’Servant, ma’am; my son Joseph has had a fine spell of work, as I hear from him, at your place since I saw you last autumn, and a beautiful place it is, I’m told.”

Mrs. Melcombe answered this civil speech, and John Mortimer said, “How is Joseph getting, on, Swan?”