‘Dingee, attend to Mr. Falkirk’s lunch, I don’t want any.’

Presently now came Dingee to her with another message.

’Massa Morton—­he ‘most dyin’ to see Miss Hazel—­but he wait till she done had her lunch.’

And she flashed down upon Mr. Morton’s eyes, like a prism-caught-sunbeam.  By this time there were two pairs of eyes to be dazzled.  Mr. Dell had made his appearance on the stage.

Mr. Dell was a clergyman, of a different denomination, who like Mr. Maryland had a church to take care of at Crocus.  Mr. Dell’s was a little church at the opposite corner of the village and society.  He himself was a good-hearted, plain man, with no savour of elegance about him, though with more than the usual modicum of sense and shrewdness.  Appearance conformable to character.  Mr. Morton was not very far from Mr. Falkirk’s range of years, though making more attempts to conceal the fact.  Rich, well educated, well mannered, a little heavy, he had married very young; and now a widower of twenty years standing, the sight of Wych Hazel had suggested to him what a nice thing it would be to be married again.  The estates too suited each other, even touched at one point.  With this gentleman Wych Hazel had some slight acquaintance, and he introduced Mr. Dell; thinking privately to himself how absurd it was for such men to come visiting such women.

’I see with pleasure that you have quite recovered from the fatigues of your journey, Miss Kennedy.  A day’s rest will often do wonders.’

’Yes, sir.  Especially if you spend a good piece of it on horseback, as I did.’

‘On horseback!’ said Mr. Morton, looking doubtful—­(he hoped she was not going to turn out one of those riding damsels, who went rough shod over all his ideas of propriety.) ’Did you go out so soon to explore the country?’

‘No, sir.  I went out on business.’

’Ah!’—­(how admirable in so young a person.)

‘There is business enough in city or country,’ said straightforward Mr. Dell—­’if you are disposed to take hold of it.  Even our little Crocus will give you plenty.’

’All the year round, sir?—­or does Crocus go to sleep in the winter like most other bulbs?’

’It is another species from any that you are acquainted with, I am afraid,’ said the clergyman, looking at her with mingled curiosity and admiration.  ’Bulbs when they go to sleep require no attention, I believe; but our Crocus wants most of all in the cold season.  We want lady gardeners too,’ said Mr. Dell, following the figure.

‘It is a most healthful exercise,’ said Mr. Morton, ’and the slight disadvantages of dress, etc., rather form a pleasant foil, I think, to the perfection of attire at other times.  Are you fond of gardening, Miss Kennedy?’

‘Very fond!’ said Miss Kennedy, demurely.  ’But that is one of the times when I like to be particularly perfect in my attire, Mr. Norton.  Why, Mr. Dell, the bulbs must be kept from freezing, you know, if they are asleep.  Isn’t Miss Maryland one of your successful gardeners?’