They all—­except, perhaps, Grannie—­felt for her—­lonely in a strange land—­and were inclined to do what they could to make her more contented.  But she desired them chiefly as listeners, and the things she had to tell were little to their taste, and less to her credit from their point of view, though she herself evidently looked upon them as every-day matters, and calculated to inspire these simple island-folk with the respect due to a woman of the greater world outside.

Grannie’s views of her grand-daughter-in-law had never altered from the first moment she set eyes on her.

When Mrs. Tom came in to hear herself talk, one afternoon when Tom was away fishing, the old lady simply sat and stared at her from the depths of her big black sun-bonnet, and never opened her lips or gave any sign of interest or hearing.

“Is she deaf?” asked Mrs. Tom after a while.

“Dear me, no.  Grannie hears everything,” said Mrs. Hamon, with a smile at thought of all the old lady would have to say presently.

“Nom d’un nom, then why doesn’t she speak?  Is it dumb she is?”

“Neither deaf nor dumb—­nor yet a fool,” rapped Grannie, so sharply that the visitor jumped.

And during the remainder of her visit, no matter to whom she was talking or what she was saying, Julie’s snapping black eyes would inevitably keep working round to the depths of the big black sun-bonnet, and at times her discourse lost point and trailed to a ragged end.

“It’s my belief that old woman next door is a witch,” she said to her husband later on.

“She’s an old devil,” he said bluntly.  “She’ll put the evil eye on you if you don’t take care.”

“She ought to be burnt,” said Mrs. Tom.

“All the same,” said Tom musingly, “she’s got money, so you’d best be as civil to her as she’ll let you.”

“Mon Dieu!  My flesh creeps still at the way she looked at me.  She has the evil eye without a doubt.”

And Grannie?—­“Mai grand doux!  What does a woman like that want here?” said she.  “A wide mouth and wanton eyes.  La Closerie has never had these before—­a Frenchwoman too!”—­with withering contempt.  For, odd as it may seem, among this people originally French, and still speaking a patois based, like their laws and customs, on the old Norman, there is no term of opprobrium more profound than “Frenchman.”

Madame Julie flatly refused to subject herself to further peril from Grannie’s keen but harmless gaze, and contented herself with such opportunities of enlarging Nance’s outlook on life as casual chats about the farm-yard afforded, and found time heavy on her hands.

Ennui, before long, gave place to grumbling, and that to recrimination; and from what the others could not help hearing, through the boarded-up doors and the floor of the loft, Tom and his wife had a cat-and-dog time of it.

Gard had moved over to Plaisance with great regret.  But nothing else was possible under the altered circumstances at La Closerie, so he made the best of it.