Hitherto I have explained everything in detail, from the time I adventured out to seek romance and found tragedy instead. Now I must be more or less exact, as it is well nigh impossible to set down everything. For an indefinite period I lodged at The Robin Redbreast, and met Miss Monk frequently here, there, and everywhere. The moth had come to the candle, and was hovering round the flame with dangerous pertinacity. Not that the lady accepted me straight away, for the most romantic of women have their practical side. Miss Monk, at first acquaintance, apparently liked me: but I puzzled her, and she questioned Mrs. Gilfin about me, so as to be sure of her ground. A very necessary precaution in the face of circumstances. "You seem to have made quite an impression on that sweet young lady, Master Cyrus," said the landlady, a day or so after I had visited Miss Destiny, "she met me by chance last night and asked me to tell her all about you." "I hope you gave me a good character," said I anxiously, and very pleased to think that my interest in Diana of the Ephesians was reciprocated. "I told her that you were always the best of boys Master Cyrus, and that fond of my custards, as I had always to give you one every day when you was little and sweet-toothed." I reddened. "Oh, nonsense! Miss Monk doesn't wish to hear tales of my childish greed, Cuckoo." "She wished to hear everything," said Mrs. Gilfin, phlegmatically, "being wonderfully took up with your pleasant ways. And I don't blame her," said the ex-cook, beaming through her spectacles, "seeing as you're a gentleman grown, Master Cyrus, and handsomer than I ever thought you'd become. Not that Miss Gertrude cares for good looks without good birth, and good manners, or she'd have run off with Joseph ages ago." "Is he back?" I asked, starting, for I had to reckon with the gardener. "Oh, yes, he's back," grunted Mrs. Gilfin, disgusted, "and always hanging about that house picking weeds. So he says, but it's to look at what he'll never get, as I'll tell him some fine day. Such sauce!" "He hasn't had the insolence to speak to Miss Monk on the subject of his confounded feelings?" I asked, anxiously, for there was no denying that the man's aggressive good looks constituted him a dangerous rival. "Not he, and if he did she'd soon send him to the right about with a flea in his ear. Good looks ain't good manners, Master Cyrus, say what you will." "Well," I laughed. "I hope you told her that I was the best-mannered and most good-natured man in the universe, Cuckoo." "I told the truth, you may be sure, Master Cyrus," rebuked Mrs. Gilfin, "saying you was that honorable and clever and thoughtful and kindhearted, as I'd trust you with my very own heart to do what you liked with. Not that you want _my_ heart, bless you," ended Mrs. Gilfin, beaming again and becoming one vast substantial smile like Mrs. Fezziwig in "The Christmas Carol." "You want Miss Gertrude's."