Miss Blythe blushed ever so little, but her curiously youthful eyes smiled, and it was plain she was not greatly displeased. The Earl of Barfield went quiet again, and again stared straight before him with a somewhat forlorn expression. The little old lady reminded him of her mother, and the remembrance of her mother reminded him of his own youth. He woke up suddenly. “So you've come back?” he said, abruptly. “You've bought the cottage?” “The freehold of the cottage was purchased for me by my dear mistress,” said the little old lady. “I desired to end my days where I began them.” “H'm!” said my lord. “We're going to be neighbors? We _are_ neighbors. We must dwell together in unity. Miss Blythe--we must dwell together in unity. I have my hands pretty full this afternoon, and I must go. I'll just trim these laburnums, and alter--” “I beg your lordship's pardon,” said Miss Blythe, with decision, “your lordship will do nothing of the sort.” “Eh? Oh, nonsense, nonsense! Must clear the footway. Must have the footway clear--really must. Besides, it improves the aspect of the garden. Always does. Decidedly improves it. Joseph Beaker, hold the ladder.” Talking thus, the old gentleman had arisen from his chair and had re-entered the roadway, but the little old lady skimmed past him and faced him at the foot of the ladder. “If your lordship wants to cut trees,” she said, “your lordship may cut your lordship's own.” “Up thee goest, gaffer,” said Joseph, handing over the little old lady's head the billhook and the saw. Miss Blythe turned upon him with terrible majesty. “Joseph Beaker?” she said, regarding him inquiringly. “Ah! The passage of six-and-twenty years has not improved your intellectual condition. Take up that ladder, Joseph Beaker. If you should ever dare again to place it against a tree upon my freehold property I shall call the policeman. I will set man-traps,” pursued the little old lady, shaking her curls vigorously at Joseph. “I will have spring-guns placed in the trees.” “Her's wuss than t'other un,” mumbled the routed Joseph, as he shambled in his lop-sided fashion down the road. “I should ha' thought you could ha' done what you liked wi' a little un like that. I niver counted on being forced to flee afore a little un.” The earl said nothing, and Miss Blythe, satisfied that the retreat was real, had already gone back to her gardening. CHAPTER III.