Their blue eyes met and ’twas Samuel’s that looked down first.

“Who might your father be?” he asked.

“Mr. Chawner Green,” she answered. “’Tis this way with us, you see.  My sister, that kept house for him, have just married, and so now I be come to take care of father.”

“He can take care of himself by all accounts,” answered Samuel, but in quite an amiable tone of voice, because the girl’s magic was already working upon him.

“Can he?” she said.  “I never heard of no man that can take care of himself.  Can you?  Anyway, my father can’t.  He’s as helpless as most other men be without a woman to mind ’em.  And I love to be here.  I was in service, but this is a lot better than service, and Thorpe-Michael’s a dear little place, don’t you think?”

Samuel didn’t say what he thought of Thorpe-Michael.  He’d got a powerful feeling in him that he wanted to know her name, and he asked her to tell him.

“You ain’t going to put it down in your policeman’s book, are you?” she said.  “Because I sinned in ignorance and it would be very ill-convenient if I got in trouble with the police afore I’d been here a fortnight.”

“You’ll never get in trouble with the police,” explained Samuel.  “In the first place, Inspector Chowne is related to your father.”

“He’s my uncle,” she answered, “and a dear man.”

“And he’s a tower of strength,” continued Samuel, “and, as for getting in trouble with me, that I can promise you you never will do if you behave.”

She looked up at him under her eyelids and felt a flutter at her heart-strings, for if ever there was a case of love at first sight it happened when Chawner Green’s younger daughter was catched in the sloan bushes by Sam Borlase.  If he liked her voice, she liked his, and if he admired her nice shoulders, she was equally pleased with his great broad ones.  Just the old craft of nature once more, as happens at every time in the year and turns all seasons into spring.

“I’m called Cicely,” she said—­“‘Sis’ for shortness.  And what be you called?”

“My name’s Samuel Borlase,” he answered, and she nodded.

“I’ll remember,” she said.

In five minutes they were walking side by side to her home, which lay along the policeman’s beat; and he carried her basket and talked about local affairs.

He was a bit shaken, however, to know she belonged to Chawner, and wished with all his heart that she had not.

Mr. Green was in his garden when they came along and he struck a tragical attitude and poked fun at ’em, for no man loved a joke better than what he did.

“Already!” he cried.  “Have she fallen into evil already, Borlase?  Be the sins of the fathers visited on the childer so soon?”

But the girl hastened to explain.

“He’s been merciful, dad,” she explained.  “Mr. Borlase catched me stealing sloe berries for your sloe gin; but I didn’t know I was stealing, you see, for I thought they were free, so he’s forgived me and I ban’t to hear no more of it this time.”