Austin’s interest was immediately aroused.  “Lubin!” he called softly, motioning the lad to come nearer.  “What was she rowing you about?  Was she blowing you up about this morning?”

“Well,” confessed Lubin with a broad smile, “she didn’t seem over-pleased.  Said you might have lost your life, going out o’ your depth with only one leg to stand on, and that if you’d been drownded I should have had to answer for it before a judge and jury.”

“What a wicked, abandoned old woman!” cried Austin.  “Only one leg to stand on, indeed!—­she hasn’t a single leg to stand on when she says such things.  She ought to have gone down on her knees and thanked you for taking such care of me.  But I shall never make anything of her, I’m afraid.  The more I try to educate her the worse she gets.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” replied Lubin sagely.  “The old hen feels herself badly off when the egg teaches her to cackle.  That’s human nature, that is.  And then she was riled because she was afraid I shouldn’t have time to get the garden-things in order by to-morrow, when it seems there’s some sort o’ company expected.  I told her ’twould be all right.”

“Oh, those brutes!  Of course, they’re coming to-morrow.  I’d nearly forgotten all about it.  It’s just like Aunt Charlotte to be so fond of all those hideous people.  You hate the MacTavishes, don’t you, Lubin? Do hate the MacTavishes!  Fancy—­nine of them, no less, counting the old ones, and all of them coming together.  What a family!  I despise people who breed like rabbits, as though they thought they were so superlative that the rest of the world could never have enough of them.”

“Ay, fools grow without watering,” assented Lubin.  “Can’t say I ever took to ’em myself—­though it’s not my place to say so.  The young gents make a bit too free with one, and when they opens their mouths no one else may so much as sneeze.  Think they know everything, they do.  There’s a saying as I’ve heard, that asses sing badly ’cause they pitch their voices too high.  Maybe it’s the same wi’ them.”

“Well, I hope Aunt Charlotte will enjoy their conversation,” said Austin comfortably.  “I say, Lubin, do you know anything about a Mr St Aubyn, who lives not far from here?”

“What, him at the Court?” replied Lubin.  “I don’t know him myself, but they say as he’s a gentleman, and no mistake.  Keeps himself to himself, he does, and has always got a civil word for everybody.  Fine old place, too, that of his.”

“Have you ever been inside?” asked Austin.

“Lor’ no, Sir,” answered Lubin.  “Don’t know as I’m over anxious to, either.  The garden’s a sight, it’s true—­but it seems there’s something queer about the house.  Can’t make out what it can be, unless the drains are a bit out of order.  But it ain’t that neither.  Sort o’ frightening—­so folks say.  But lor’, some folks’ll say anything.  I never knew anybody as ever saw anything there.  It’s only some old woman’s yarn, I reckon.”