“By gum,” said the earth-digger, slapping his leg, “they pups would have noses.  They wuddent never be at fault, would ’em?”

Old Mrs. Goudie, who had a simple taste in raillery, was so convulsed by this jesting that she put down her tray in order to laugh at ease; and chiefly because she was laughing, Mary laughed also.

“An’ you know most o’ the tricks o’ foxes too, don’t you, Mr. Allen?”

“Now then,” said Dale, returning, “that’s enough, my lads.  I dropped you the hint by now.  You’re welcome to as much more of my beer as you can carry, but you won’t sauce my friends inside my gates—­nor outside, either, if I chance to be there.”

“Aw right, sir.”

“Take no heed of them,” said Allen.  “It is only their ignorance;” and he staggered to his feet.

Dale escorted the honored guest to the gig, then wiped his perspiring face, lighted a pipe; and then reproved Mary and Mrs. Goudie for unseemly mirth.

They still had Mary with them, and, although they did not know it, were to enjoy her faithful service for some time to come.  Now that Mrs. Dale grew her own vegetables, purchases from Mr. Druitt, the higgler, had become rare; only an occasional bit of bacon, or once in a way a couple of rabbits, a hare, a doubtfully obtained pheasant, could ever be required from him; so that the greater part of his frequent visits were admittedly paid to the servant and not to the mistress.  But he proved an unconscionably slow courtier.  Mary, for her part, when she was teased about him and asked if he did not yet show anxiety to reach the happy day, always tossed her head and said that she was in no hurry, that she doubted if she could ever tear herself away from Vine-Pits, and so on.

Then, at last, a shocking discovery was made.  Mary, after an afternoon out, came home with her face all red and blubbered, sat in the kitchen sobbing and rocking herself, and told Mavis how she had heard on unimpeachable authority that the higgler was a married man.  He had always been married—­and poor Mary confessed that she was very fond of him, although so angry with him for his disgraceful treatment of her.

On the next visit of the higgler Dale was lying in wait for him.

“Come inside, please.  I’d like a few words with you, Mr. Druitt;” and the higgler was led through the kitchen, and up the three steps into the adjacent room.

Here, as soon as the door had been shut, Mr. and Mrs. Dale both tackled him.  Dale was very fine, like a magistrate, so dignified as well as so severe, accusing the culprit of playing fast and loose with a young woman, of arousing feelings in her bosom which he was not in a position to satisfy.

“A girl,” said Mavis, “that we consider under our charge, as much as if she was our daughter.”

“Who looks to us,” said Dale, “for guardianship and protection.”

Mr. Druitt, sitting on the edge of his chair, smiling foolishly, nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen door, and gave a queer sort of wink.