With all the joys and sorrows of his mother’s life Tabitha had been associated for five and thirty years of conscientious service; and to have lost the good soul now from his fireside was a positive affliction to Martin Disney. Her loss gave an air of instability to his domestic life. Who would ever care for his property as Tabitha had cared--Tabitha who had seen the china and the pictures and drawings collected piece by piece, who had seen the old family silver drop in by way of legacy from this and that aunt or uncle, till the safe was full of treasures, every one of which had its distinct history? What would a new housekeeper care for General Disney’s coffee-pot, for the George the Second urn that had belonged to his uncle the Indian judge, for his grandmother’s decanter stands? A modern servant would scoff at decanter stands; would wonder they were not melted down. No, rejoiced as he was to be at home once more, home without Tabitha would be something less than home to Martin Disney. He found Crown Terrace, a row of neat little houses high above the harbour on the Helston road. He had no need to look at the numbers on the doors. He knew Tabitha’s house at a glance, four or five doors off. Who else would have devised such pretty window-boxes, so simple and so artistic; or who else would have hit upon so perfect a harmony of colour in the flowering plants? Who else, of that lowly status, would have chosen such curtains or draped them so gracefully? The little bow-windowed band-box of a house was as pretty as a Parisian toy. Tabitha was in the window, working with scissors and sponge at one of the flower-boxes. Never an aphid was allowed to rest on Tabitha’s roses or geraniums. She gave a little cry of mixed alarm and delight as she saw that stalwart figure come between her and the sunshine. “Lor’ sakes, Captain Martin, is it you?” she cried. “Yes, Tabby, it is I--and I want to know what you’ve got to say to me. Do you know how a deserter feels when he suddenly finds himself face to face with his commanding officer? I never had such a knock-down blow as when I came home the day before yesterday and found you had deserted your post--you whom I trusted so implicitly.” Tabitha looked at him dumbly--entreatingly--as if she were mutely supplicating him not to be angry. She took this reproof with an air of having thoroughly deserved it, of not having any plea to offer in her defence. “You’ll come in and sit down a bit, won’t you, Captain Martin?” she said deprecatingly; and then, without waiting for an answer, she bustled out of the parlour, and anon appeared at the open door. “Yes, of course I am coming in. I have a great deal to say to you--much more than can be said in the open street.”