So he sat by the open window in his beehive chair that summer afternoon drowsily listening to the mill. In the window was the escutcheon of his family in coloured glass, and the name "Fischere" in old-fashioned letters. Fishere of the Warren was fined one hundred pounds as a noted malignant in the days of fear and trembling that followed Worcester fight. The shadow stole forward on the dial, and there came the dull hollow sound of horse's hoofs passing over the wooden bridge. Presently Jane the housekeeper, who, by virtue of her necessity to him in his infirmities, used no ceremony nor courtesy of speech, came in. "There be a paason wants to see thee," said she. No answer. "Dost hear?" A grunt. "Wake up!"--shaking him. He struck at her with his blackthorn that ever lay between his knees. "Thee nistn't hoopy at I--I can hyar as well as thee," he growled. "A paason wants to see thee." "Axe un in." "Come in, you!" shouted the old hag, without going to the door. "Shall I put thee jug away?" This to Andrew, and meaning the jug of weak gin-and-water which he kept constantly by him to sip. "Let un bide." Felix St Bees came into the room. He had ridden up to ask for the hand of May, his darling. It was not a reception to encourage a lover. "Good afternoon, sir," said Felix. "Arternoon to ee." To Jane, "Who be it?" "Dunno." "What's your wull wi' I?" "I want a little private conversation with you, sir." "Get out, you!" to the ancient hag, who reluctantly walked from the room, but left the door ajar. "Wull ee shut the door?" Felix went and closed it. "This is a fine old house," he began, trying to get _en rapport_ before opening his mission. "Aw, eez." "And a beautiful view." "Mebbe." "You have had great experience of life, sir." "Likely zo." Andrew had had a good education in his youth, but lapsed two generations ago into broad provincialism. Now it had got about (as such things will) that Andrew was backing Val Browne's dark horse heavily, and May was anxious about her grandfather's intercourse with the trainer, who, except in his employer's eyes, was far from perfect. She dreaded lest he should be cheated and lose the money--not so much for the sake of the amount, but because at his age and with his terrible temper it was impossible to say what effect it might have upon his health. So Felix, as a clergyman, wished to warn the aged man; but a little nervous (as might be pardoned under the circumstances) he did not, perhaps, go about it the right way. "And you have seen, sir, how uncertain everything is--even the crops." "Wheat be vine to year." "Well, even your mill-wheel stops sometimes from accidents, I suppose." "Aw, a' reckon ull last my time. Wull ee drenk?" "No, thank you. The fact is I'm anxious to warn you about betting on Mr Browne's horse. _He_ is upright--but--" "Hum!" In the depths of his beehive chair the glitter of the old man's grey eye was not observed by Felix.