“Old Un, for heaven’s sake, shut up!  D’ you think I’m blind?  D’ you think—­”

“Guv, I dunno wot t’ think!  ’Ere ’s you with your ’ead in your ’ands, an’ there’s ‘er sighin’ an’ sighin’—­”

“Sighing?  Where?  When?  Why—­”

“Sighin’ an’ sighin’, Guv, so soft an’ pretty—­I ’eard ’er!  Also she wep’—­I seen ’er.”

“Where?”

“An’ ‘er tears, Guv, them pearly tears went t’ my ‘eart—­an’ nobody t’ put a arm round that waist, nor kiss them sweet lips, nor soothe them tears away—­

“‘Oh, alone she sat sighin’ by a green willer tree,
 With ’er ’and on ’er bosom, ’er ’ead on ’er knee,
 Weepin’ willer” willer, willer my garlan’ shall be.’

“So, Guv, I ax you, man to man, why, oh, why are ye neglectin’ your fair young spouse?  An’, Guv, I only ax because your ‘appiness an’ ’ers is mine—­s’ ’elp me!”

“How if it’s the other way about, Old Un?  Suppose she avoids me?”

“Why lumme, Guv!  ’T is a sure sign she needs persoot.  Remember this: 

“’Im as would lovely woman woo
 ’E lovely woman must persoo,
 For if ’e don’t, ’t is plain as plain
 That feller ‘e will woo in vain.’

“An’, Guv, I’ve only took th’ liberty o’ sayin’ this because my pore old bowels yearns to ye—­both on ye.  Persoot’s the word, Guv, per-soot!”

The Old Un nodded, rose, and creaked away, and Ravenslee, looking after him, scowled no longer, but rising, sauntered across the trim garden to where there was a lily pool and, leaning over the marble rim, stared down into the placid water.

Now as the Old Un went his way, there met him a little girl, very neat and tidy, who sang to herself in a small happy voice and tapped along on a crutch; but beholding the Old Un, his dazzling shoes, his rakish hat, she stood silent all at once, glancing up wistfully into that fierce, battered old face.

“Lumme—­crutches!” he exclaimed.

“No, please—­only one, sir!” she answered, dropping him a little, old-fashioned curtsey.

“Crikey!” said he, staring, “so young, so tender, an’—­a game leg!  A little angel wi’ a broke wing—­lumme!”

So Age and Youth stared at each other and she, being a child, was quick to heed that the eyes so bright beneath their hoary brows were kindly eyes, and the smile upon the grim old mouth was very reassuring, wherefore she smiled also.

“Only one crutch, sir,” she repeated.  “An’ the doctor says as I won’t want it much longer, sir.”  Here, dropping another curtsey, she held up for his acceptance a bunch of wild flowers.

“What—­f’ me, little maid?” he enquired.

“Yes, please, sir.”

“Why bless—­bless your lovin’ little ’eart!” quavered the old man, and stooped to touch her rosy cheek with a hand gnarled and scarred with much hard punching, yet a very gentle hand indeed.  “God bless that little game leg, but pretty flowers ’ud be wasted on a old bloke like me.  You take ’em to th’ Guv, see—­over there—­that tall chap leanin’ over th’ pool.  But first gimme a—­a kiss instead, will ye, little lass?”