It was not till the ground was white with crumbs, and the first frenzy of his pensioners appeased, that he turned to Garnett and said:  “I presume, sir, that you come from my wife.”

Garnett coloured with embarrassment:  the more simply the old man took his mission the more complicated it appeared to himself.

“From your wife—­and from Miss Newell,” he said at length.  “You have perhaps heard that she is to be married.”

“Oh, yes—­I read the Herald pretty faithfully,” said Miss Newell’s parent, shaking out another handful of crumbs.

Garnett cleared his throat.  “Then you have no doubt thought it natural that, under the circumstances, they should wish to communicate with you.”

The sage continued to fix his attention on the sparrows.  “My wife,” he remarked, “might have written to me.”

“Mrs. Newell was afraid she might not hear from you in reply.”

“In reply?  Why should she?  I suppose she merely wishes to announce the marriage.  She knows I have no money left to buy wedding-presents,” said Mr. Newell astonishingly.

Garnett felt his colour deepen:  he had a vague sense of standing as the representative of something guilty and enormous, with which he had rashly identified himself.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said.  “Mrs. Newell and your daughter have asked me to see you because they are anxious that you should consent to appear at the wedding.”

Mr. Newell, at this, ceased to give his attention to the birds, and turned a compassionate gaze upon Garnett.

“My dear sir—­I don’t know your name—­” he remarked, “would you mind telling me how long you have been acquainted with Mrs. Newell?” And without waiting for an answer he added judicially:  “If you wait long enough she will ask you to do some very disagreeable things for her.”

This echo of his own thoughts gave Garnett a sharp twinge of discomfort, but he made shift to answer good-humouredly:  “If you refer to my present errand, I must tell you that I don’t find it disagreeable to do anything which may be of service to Miss Hermione.”

Mr. Newell fumbled in his pocket, as though searching unavailingly for another morsel of bread; then he said:  “From her point of view I shall not be the most important person at the ceremony.”

Garnett smiled.  “That is hardly a reason—­” he began; but he was checked by the brevity of tone with which his companion replied:  “I am not aware that I am called upon to give you my reasons.”

“You are certainly not,” the young man rejoined, “except in so far as you are willing to consider me as the messenger of your wife and daughter.”

“Oh, I accept your credentials,” said the other with his dry smile; “what I don’t recognize is their right to send a message.”

This reduced Garnett to silence, and after a moment’s pause Mr. Newell drew his watch from his pocket.