“They haven’t quarrelled, have they?” asked Fancy.

“Quarrelled?  No, of course they haven’t quarrelled.  What put such a thing into your head, child?”

“I don’t know. . . .  But I don’t like this writin’; it’s unnatural.  And they’re livin’ apart, you say?”

“They didn’t even breakfast together.  But that was an accident, Captain Hunken having walked out early and taken the parrot.”

“Funny thing to take for a walk.”

“Which,” explained Mrs Bowldler with a glance at Palmerston, “I had to lodge a complaint with Captain Hocken yesterday relative to its conversation, and he must have spoken about it; for Captain Hunken went out at eight o’clock taking the bird with him, cage and all, and when he came back they were minus.”

Fancy pondered.  “What did the parrot say?” she asked.

“You mustn’t ask, my dear.  I couldn’t tell it to anything less than a married woman.”

“That’s a pity; because I wanted to know, quick.  I suppose, now, you haven’t a notion what he did with the bird?”

“Not a notion.”

“I thought not.  Well, I have.  He’s been an’ gone an’ given it away to Mrs Bosenna, up at Rilla.”

Mrs Bowldler turned pale and gripped the edge of the table.

“I’ll bet you any money,” Fancy nodded slowly.

“Ho! catch me ere I faint!” panted Mrs Bowldler.

“Why, what’s the matter?  She’s a married woman, or has been.”

“If only you’d heard—­”

“Yes, it’s a pity,” agreed Fancy, and turned about.  “Pam!”

“Yes, Miss,” answered Palmerston.

“Call me ‘Fancy.’”

“Yes, Miss Fancy.”

She stamped her small foot.  “There’s no ‘Miss’ about it.  How stupid you are—­when you see I’m in a hurry, too!  Call me ‘Fancy.’”

“Y-yes—­Fancy,” stammered Palmerston, blushing furiously, shutting his eyes and dropping his voice to a whisper.

“That’s better. . . .  What does it feel like?  Pleasant?”

“V-very pleasant, miss—­Fancy, I mean.  It—­it’ll come in time,” pleaded Palmerston, still red to the eyes.

“That’s right, again.  Because I want you to marry me, Pammy dear.”

“Well! the owdacious!” exclaimed Mrs Bowldler in a kind of hysterical titter, snatching at her bodice somewhere over the region of her heart.  Fancy paid no heed to her.

“Only we must make a runaway match of it,” she went on, “for there’s no time to lose, it seems.”

For answer Palmerston burst into a flood of tears.

“There now!” Mrs Bowldler of a sudden became serious.  “You might have known he’s too soft to be teased. . . .  Oh, be quiet, do, Palmerston!  Think of your namesake!”

A bell jangled overhead.

“Captain Hocken’s bell!—­and the child’s face all blubbered, which he hates to see, while as for Captain Hunken—­there! it that isn’t his bell going too in the adjoining!  Palmerston, pull yourself together and be a man.”