“Ay,” assented ‘Bias, “we’ll have to get used to folks smilin’, these next few days. . . .  Between ourselves, I never fancied that woman, though I couldn’ give you any particular reason for it.”

“Sly,” suggested Cai.

“’Tis more than that.  Slyness, you may say, belongs to the whole sex, and I’ve known men say as they found it agreeable, in moderation.”

“I never noticed that in her mistress, to do her justice.”

’Bias halted.  “Look here. . . .  You’re sure you ain’t weakenin’?”

“Sure.”

“Because, as I told ’ee last night—­and I’ll say it again, here, at the last moment—­she’s yours, and welcome, if so be—­”

“—­’If so be as I didn’ speak my true mind last night, when I said the same to you ’—­is that what you mean?  Here, let’s on and get it over!” said Cai, mopping his brow anew.

“’Tis a delicate business to broach, as you mentioned just now,” said ’Bias dallying.  “We’ll have to be very careful how we put it.”

“Very.  As I told ’ee before, if you like to take it over—­”

“Not at all.  You’re spokesman—­only we don’t want to put it so’s she can round on us with ‘nobody axed you.’  And you gave me a turn, just then, by sayin’ as you never noticed she was sly; because as I reckon, that’s the very point we’ve come to make.”

“As how?”

’Bias stared at him in some perturbation.  “Why, didn’t she put that trick on us over the investment?  And ain’t we here to give her back her money?  And wasn’t it agreed as we’d open on her reproachful-like? an’ then, one thing leadin’ to another—­”

“Ay, to be sure—­I got all that in my mind really.”  Cai wiped the back of his neck and pocketed his handkerchief with an air of decision—­or of desperation.  “What you don’t seem to know—­though with any experience o’ speakin’ you’d understand well enough—­is that close upon the last moment all your thoughts fly, and specially if folks will keep chatterin’:  but when you stand up and open your mouth—­provided as nobody interrupts you . . .”

“I declare!  If it isn’t Captain Hocken—­and Captain Hunken with him!”

At the creaking of the small gate, as Cai opened it, Mrs Bosenna had looked up and espied them.  She dropped the bundle of raffia, with the help of which she had been staking such of her young shoots as were overlong or weighted down by their heavy blooms, and came forward with a smile of welcome.

“Come in—­come in, the both of you!  What lovely weather!  You’ll excuse my not taking off my gloves?  We are busy, you see, and some of my new beauties have the most dreadful thorns! . . .  By the way”—­she glanced over her shoulder, following Cai’s incredulous stare.  “I believe you know Mr Middlecoat?  Yes, yes, of course—­I remember!” She laughed and beckoned forward the young farmer, who dropped his occupation among the rosebuds and shuffled forward obediently enough, yet wearing an expression none too gracious.