Personally, I think it _might_, but Shirtliff won't hear of it, "Certainly not. On no account! At all events _he_'ll be no party to it. He will simply thank her, shake hands, and walk out." Which he does. I do the same. He may be right, and anyhow, if one of us is to run the risk of offending this matron's delicacy by the offer of a gratuity, Pashley will do it better than I. [Illustration] Pashley overtakes us presently, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Did he tip her?" "Yes, he _tipped_ her." "And she flung it after you!" cries Shirtliff, in triumph. "I knew she would! _Now_ I hope you're satisfied!" "If I am, it's more than _she_ was," says Pashley. "She stuck to it all right, but she let me see it was nothing like what she'd expected for the three of us." Shirtliff silent but unconvinced. However, as we go on, we see a beckoning forefinger at almost every door and window. Every Markener anxious that we should walk into his little parlour--and pay for the privilege. All of them, as Pashley disgustedly observes, "On the make"; got some treasured heirloom that has been in the family without intermission for six months, and that they would be willing to part with, if pressed, for a consideration. We don't press them; in fact, we are obliged at last to decline their artless invitations--to their unconcealed disgust. Nice people, very, but can't afford to know too many of them. "At least the _children_ are unspoilt," says Shirtliff, as we come upon a couple of chubby infants, walking solemnly hand in hand as usual. He protests, when Pashley insists on presenting them with a cent, or one-fifth of an English penny, apiece. "Why demoralise them, why instil the love of money into their innocent minds?" Shirtliff wants to know. He is delighted when they exhibit no sort of emotion on being thus enriched. It shows, he says, that, as yet, they have no conception what money means. The pair have toddled off towards a gathering of older children, and Pashley, who has brought a Kodak, wonders if he can induce them to stay as they are while he takes a snapshot. Shirtliff protests again. Only spoil them, make them conceited and self-conscious, he maintains. But the children have seen the Kodak, and are eager to be taken. One of them produces a baby from neighbouring cottage, and they arrange themselves instinctively in effective group by a fence. Pashley delighted. "Awfully intelligent little beggars!" he says. "They seem to know exactly what I want." They also know exactly what _they_ want, for the moment they hear the camera click, they make a rush at us, sternly demanding five cents a head for their services.