When at last Beth said it was time to go home, and they strolled away arm in arm, Alfred and Dicksie discovered that they were late, and Beth insisted on parting from them at the field-gate into the vicarage grounds instead of letting them see her safe into the street. When they left her, she hurried on down the path beside the church alone, and she had not taken many steps before she was suddenly confronted by a tall dark man, who made as if he would not let her pass. She stopped startled, and then went straight up to him boldly and peered into his face. "Is that you, Gard?" she exclaimed. "How dare you!" "How dare you!" he rejoined impudently. "I've had my eye on you for some time. I saw you out there just now in the field. I was determined to know what you were up to. There's mighty little happens here that I don't know." "Oh," said Beth, "so you're the town spy, are you? Well, you're not going to spy upon me, so I warn you, Mr. Gard. The next time I come here, I'll come armed, and if I catch you dogging me about again, I'll shoot you as dead as my father's pistols can do it. And as it is, you shall pay for this, I promise you. Just step aside now, you cowardly black devil, and let me pass. Do you think that it's milk I've got in my veins that you come out on a fool's errand to frighten me?" Without a word the man stepped aside, and Beth walked on down the path with her head in the air, and deliberately, to let him see how little she feared him. The next morning, directly after breakfast, she went down to the pier. Count Bartahlinsky's yacht was alongside, and Gard was on deck. He changed countenance when Beth appeared. She ran down the ladder. "I want to see your master," she said. "He can't see you, miss. He's given orders that he's not to be disturbed for no one whatsoever," Gard answered with excess of deference; "and it's as much as my billet is worth to go near him; he's very much occupied this morning." "Don't tell lies," said Beth. "I'm going to see him." She went forward to the skylight as she spoke, and called down, "Below there, Count Gustav!" "Hello!" a voice replied. "Is that you, Beth? You know you're too big to be on the yacht now without a chaperon." "Rot!" said Beth. "Don't be coarse, Beth," Count Gustav remonstrated from below in rather a precious tone. "You know how I dislike hoyden English." "Well, then, _nonsense_! if that's any better," Beth rejoined. "You've got to see me--this once at all events, or there'll be a tragedy." "Oh, in that case," was the resigned reply, "I'll come on deck." Beth walked aft and waited for him, enthroned on the bulwark, with a coil of rope for her footstool. When Count Gustav appeared, he looked at her quizzically. "What is the matter, Beth?" he asked. "What are you boiling with indignation about now?" "About that man Gard," Beth replied. "What do you think he was doing last night? and not for the first time, by his own account. Spying!"