"On Saaron, sir.... Eh? No, to be sure.... Folks may suffer on the Islands in these days, but what use to tell the Governor? He was good to us in his time, but now he has cut himself off from us with his own troubles.... Did anyone tell you, sir, the text that old Seth Hicks preached from, over to St. Ann's, at the last service before the Lord Proprietor closed the Meeting House? 'I will lift up mine eyes,' said he, 'to the hills, from whence cometh my help,' and then, having given it out, the old fellow turned solemn-like t'ards the window that looks across here to Garrison Hill. 'Amen,' said some person in the congregation; 'but 'tis no use, brother Seth, your seeking in that quarter.'" The Commandant, who had set down his basket, lifted it again wearily. "Mrs. Banfield," said he, "won't you at least put it down to my credit that, having (as you say) my own troubles, I don't bother my neighbours with 'em?" "Why, bless your heart, sir--that ever I should say it--that's what hurts us sorest! We can fit and fend along somehow, never you mind; but when for years you shared our little tribylations and taught us, forrigner, tho' you were, to be open with 'ee as daylight, it do seem cruel that you can't enjoy a bit of trouble on your own account but you must take it away and hide it." The Commandant's eyes moistened suddenly. "Is that how the Islanders look at it, Mrs. Banfield?" "It is, sir." "Well, well," said the Major. "I never guessed.... I am a blind old fool, it seems. But"--and here, blinking away the moisture, he smiled at Mrs. Banfield almost gaily--"I can begin at once to make amends. The luggage that went up the hill, just now, belongs to--to a friend of mine--a visitor who will be my guest for a short while at the Barracks. And this"--he tapped the basket--"is for my friend's breakfast. In exchange for this information you shall tell me now what is the matter over at Saaron." "The matter is, the Lord Proprietor has given the Tregarthens notice." The Commandant's eyes grew round in his head as he stared at Mrs. Banfield, who answered by nodding her head briskly, as though each nod was the tap of a hammer driving home a nail. "What? Eli Tregarthen--that married Cara's younger daughter--that used to live--" The Commandant recited this much in the fashion of a child repeating "The House that Jack Built." His gaze wandered past Mrs. Banfield to the blue-painted doorway behind her. "It don't matter, that I can see, where the woman used to live," said Mrs. Banfield; "but it do matter to my mind that a Tregarthen has farmed Saaron for six generations, and now 'tis pack-and-go for 'em." "But why?"