“Whoa!” Elijah drew up his trap in the grassy lane before Blackwater Hall and jumped down. The afterglow of sunset was in the sky, but the Common was still torpid with the breezeless heat of the day. He was in his best flannel suit and smartest cap, though the same old pipe stuck in his blackened teeth. Removing it, he rapped at the door with it, knocking out the ashes with the same taps. As nothing happened, he tugged from his pocket a paper-wrapped pot and thudded at the door with that. He had been simulating rage, for he had come to denounce a mistake, though enchanted to have the opportunity of calling on Jinny. But now for fear she was not yet back—and vexed with himself for not choosing one of her domestic days—he began to get really ruffled. He lifted the latch unceremoniously, but the door seemed bolted. Re-pocketing the pot with an unsmothered oath, he moved towards the living-room wall and peeped through the wide-flung little casement. Pah! Only the Gaffer snoring in his favourite posture, head on the family Bible. The shabbiness of the ancient earth-coloured smock-frock, like the meanness of the furniture, added to Elijah’s disgust. “Fancy her slaving in this heat,” he mused, “when she might be snoozing on my horsehair sofa!” He shouted angrily, “Wake up, you old codger.” The nonagenarian obeyed with a start. “What’s amiss, my little mavis?” he yawned. “I ain’t a mavis,” Elijah informed him irately, “I’m a veterinary surgeon.” Daniel Quarles sprang to his feet. “Marciful powers! Anything wrong with Methusalem?” “No, no—” Elijah assured him through the little window, “I’ve come about Jinny.” The old man tottered and caught at his chair. “An accident to Jinny?” “Stuff and nonsense! She’ll be home any minute. Can I come in and wait for her?” Daniel growled and grumbled. “Don’t you see Oi’m busy readin’ the Scriptures?” “I won’t interfere with that.” He moved back to the door and rattled the latch masterfully. He suddenly saw the possibility of pushing his suit with the grandfather. “Why do you lock yourself in?” he demanded, as the bolts creaked back. “Don’t you see they’ve took the Dutch clock?” said the Gaffer pitifully. “She desarts me all day long, and Oi can’t have my eyes everywheres.” Elijah glanced up at the clock in the ante-room, ticking as imperturbably as ever. “Why, it’s up there!” he said, puzzled. “Do ye don’t try to befool me. That’s the same face, but they’ve took out the works and put in rubbidge. But it ain’t works we’re justified by,” he added musingly. Elijah, picking his way among the old cypress chests, followed him into the living-room, sat down unasked on the settle, and mechanically pulled out his pipe. “Git out o’ my house!” roared Daniel. Elijah’s pipe fell on the rush mat. “Boldero hisself,” explained the ancient, “never durst smoke in my nostrils. And who be you?”