“One can never have too many roses,” declared Mrs Bosenna.  “Let be that there’s new ones comin’ out every year, faster than you can keep count with them.  Folks’ll never persuade me that the old H.P.’s don’t do best for Cornwall; but when you go in for exhibition there’s the judges and their fads to be considered, and the rage nowadays is all for Teas and high centres. . . .  When first I heard as that parcel of ground was likely to come in the market, I sat down and planned how I’d lay it out with three long beds for the very best Teas, and fence off the top with a rose hedge—­Wichurianas or Penzance sweet briars—­and call it my Jubilee Garden; next year bein’ the Diamond Jubilee, you know.  All the plants could be in before the end of February, and I’ll promise myself that by June, when the Queen’s day came round, there shouldn’t be a loyaller-bloomin’ garden in the land.”

“Well,” allowed Cai, “that’s sensibler anyway than puttin’ up arches and mottoes.  But what’s to prevent ye?”

“’Tis that nasty disagreeable Mr Middlecoat,” answered Mrs Bosenna pettishly.  “He comes and tells me now as that strip has always been the apple of his eye. . . .  It’s my belief he wants to grow roses against me; and what’s more, it’s my belief he’d swallow up all Rilla if he could; which is better land than his own, acre for acre.  It angers him to live alongside a woman and be beaten by her at every point o’ farmin’.”

“But you’ve the longer purse, ma’am, as I understand,” suggested ’Bias.  “Talkin’ o’ which—­” He fumbled in his breast-pocket and produced an envelope.

“My rent, ma’am.”

“Ay, to be sure:  and mine, ma’am,” Cai likewise produced his rent.

“You are the most punctual of tenants!” laughed Mrs Bosenna, taking the two envelopes.  “But after all, they say, short reckonin’s make long friends.”

She divided a glance between them, to be shared as they would.

“But as I was suggestin’ ma’am—­why not attend the sale and outbid the fellow?”

“So I can, of course:  and so I will, perhaps.  Still it’s not pleasant to live by a neighbour who thinks he can walk in and hector you, just because you’re a woman.”

“You want protection:  that’s what you want,” observed ’Bias fatuously.

“In your place,” said Cai with more tact, “I should forbid him the premises.”

For some reason Mrs Bosenna omitted to invite them to stay and drink tea:  and after a while they took their leave together.  At the foot of the descent, as they gained the highroad, Cai faced about and asked, “Which way?”

“I was thinkin’ to stretch my legs around Four Turnin’s,” answered ’Bias, although as a matter of fact the intention had that instant occurred to him.

“Well, so long!” Cai nodded and turned towards the town.  “Compliments of the season,” he added.

“Same to you.”

They walked off in opposite directions.