’On dit that two highly respected sons of the brine, recently settled in our midst, and one of whom has recently been elected to teach our young ideas how to shoot, were so fired with emulation by the ploughing in Class C as to challenge one another then and there to a trial of prowess, much to the entertainment of our agricultural friends.  The stakes were for a considerable amount, and the two heroes who had elected to plough something more solid than the waves, quickly found themselves the observed of all observers.  Rumour, that lying jade, hints at a lady in the case.  Certain it is that the pair, whose names have of late been syn—­been sy-nonymous—­with,’—­

“—­O Lor’! here’s a heap of it, master!”

“Skip the long syllables an’ get on.”

“H’m—­m—­”

    ’—­acquitted themselves to the astonishment of the
    judges, and of everybody else in the field. 
    Search out the lady, as our Gallic neighbours say.’

—­“Where’s Gallic?”

“Don’t know.  Ask Shake Benny.  He supplies the Troy Notes to the ‘Herald.’”

“Oh, does he?”

“Yes:  he gets his gossip off Philp; and dresses it up.  That’s how it’s done.  Philp has a nose like a ferret’s:  but he was unfort’nit in his education.  You may trust Philp to get at the facts—­leastways you can trust him for gossip:  but he can’t dress anything up. . . .  Why, what’s the matter with the child?”

Fancy Tabb never laughed:  and this was the queerer because she had a sense of humour beyond her years.  Though by no means a gleeful child she could express glee naturally enough:  but a joke merely affected her with silent convulsive twitchings, as though the risible faculties struggled somewhere within her but could not bring the laugh to birth.

These spasms of mirth, whatever had provoked them, were cut short—­and her explanation too—­by a heavy footstep on the stairs.

“Cap’n Hunken!” she announced, and went to open the door.  “Most like he wants to talk business with you same as Cap’n Hocken did this morning, and I’d better make myself scarce.  That’s the silly way they’ve taken to behave, ‘stead of callin’ together.”

“Ay, you’re sharp, missy,” said her master.  “But ’twon’t be the same arrand this time, as it happens:  so you’re wrong for once.”

Fancy, if she heard, did not answer, for ’Bias by this time had reached the landing without.  She opened to him.  “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Afternoon, missy.  I saw your father in the shop, and he told me to walk up.  Mr Rogers disengaged?”

“Ay, Cap’n—­walk in, walk in!” said Mr Rogers from his chair.  What is it to-day?  Business? or just a pipe and a chat?”

“Well, it’s business,” allowed ’Bias with a glance at the girl.  “But I’ll light a pipe over it, if you don’t mind.”

“And I’ll fit and make tea for you both,” said Fancy.  “It’s near about time.”