He spoke in a dreamy abstracted tone, as if addressing the pot-hooks.  Tamsin started, set down the pan with a clatter, and turned sharply round.

“Eh?” said Mr. Fogo, aroused by the clatter, “you were saying—?” And then it struck him that he had spoken aloud.  He broke off, and looked up with appealing helplessness.

There was a second’s pause.

“You were saying—­”

The words came as if dragged from her by an effort.  Her eyes were full of wrath as she stood above him and waited for his reply.

“I am very sorry,” he stammered; “I never meant you to hear.”

“You were talking of—?”

“Of you,” he answered simply.  He was horribly frightened; but it was not in the man’s nature to lie, or even evade the question.

The straightforwardness of the reply seemed to buffet her in the face.  She put up a hand against the chimney-piece and caught her breath.

“What is ’but’?” she asked with a kind of breathless vehemence.  “Finish your sentence.  What right have you to talk of me?” she went on, as he did not reply.  “If I am not a lady, what is that to you?  Oh!” she persisted, in answer to the swift remonstrance on his face, “I can end your sentence:  ’She is quite beautiful, but—­quite low, of course.’  What right have you to call me either—­to speak of me at all?  We were content enough before you came—­Peter and Paul and I. Why cannot you let us alone?  I hate you!  Yes, I hope there is no doubt now that I am low—­hate you!”

She stamped her foot in passion as two angry tears sparkled in her eyes.

“Why, Tamsin!” cried Paul’s voice at the door, “the Shenachrum not ready yet?  I niver knawed ’ee so long afore.”

She turned sharply, caught up the pan, and stooped over the fire again.  But the glow on her cheeks now was hotter than any fire could bring.

“’Tes rare stuff, sir,” said the Twin encouragingly, as Tamsin filled a steaming glass, and handed it, without a look, to Mr. Fogo.  “Leastways, ‘tes thought a deal of i’ these parts by them as, wi’out bein’ perlite, es yet reckoned jedges.”

Mr. Fogo took the glass and sipped bravely.  The stuff was so hot that tears sprang to his eyes, but he gulped it down, nevertheless.

“An’ now, sir,” began Peter, who had joined the group, and was looking on approvingly, “Paul an’ me was considerin’ in the back-kitchen, an’ agreed that makin’ so bold as to ax ‘ee, an’ hopin’ ‘twont’ be thought over free, you must stay the night, seein’ you’ve took this cold, an’ the night air bein’, as es well known, terrable apt to give ’ee inflammation.”

“We’d planned,” put in Paul, “to go down wi’ the boat to Kit’s House an’ fetch up your things, and tell Caleb about et, so’s he shudn’ be decomposed.  An’ Tamsin’ll tell ’ee there’s a room at your sarvice, an’ reckoned purty—­lookin’ on to the bee-skeps an’ the orchard at the back,” he explained with a meaning glance at Tamsin, who was silent.