“Considering that you are a neighbor, I will tell you who I am,” she answered. “No; I am of the tribe of Bluebells, but my name is Lammas, and I have been given to understand that I was christened Margaret. Being a floral family, they call me Daisy. A dreadful American man once told me that my aunt was a Bluebell and that I was a Harebell—with two l’s and an e—because my hair is so thick. I warn you, so that you may avoid making such a bad pun.” “Do I look like a man who makes puns?” I asked, being very conscious of my melancholy face and sad looks. Miss Lammas eyed me critically. “No; you have a mournful temperament. I think I can trust you,” she answered. “Do you think you could communicate to my aunt the fact that you are a Cairngorm and a neighbor? I am sure she would like to know.” I leaned toward the old lady, inflating my lungs for a yell. But Miss Lammas stopped me. “That is not of the slightest use,” she remarked. “You can write it on a bit of paper. She is utterly deaf.” “I have a pencil,” I answered; “but I have no paper. Would my cuff do, do you think?” “Oh, yes!” replied Miss Lammas, with alacrity; “men often do that.” I wrote on my cuff: “Miss Lammas wishes me to explain that I am your neighbor, Cairngorm.” Then I held out my arm before the old lady’s nose. She seemed perfectly accustomed to the proceeding, put up her glasses, read the words, smiled, nodded, and addressed me in the unearthly voice peculiar to people who hear nothing. “I knew your grandfather very well,” she said. Then she smiled and nodded to me again, and to her niece, and relapsed into silence. “It is all right,” remarked Miss Lammas. “Aunt Bluebell knows she is deaf, and does not say much, like the parrot. You see, she knew your grandfather. How odd that we should be neighbors! Why have we never met before?” “If you had told me you knew my grandfather when you appeared in the garden, I should not have been in the least surprised,” I answered rather irrelevantly. “I really thought you were the ghost of the old fountain. How in the world did you come there at that hour?” “We were a large party and we went out for a walk. Then we thought we should like to see what your park was like in the moonlight, and so we trespassed. I got separated from the rest, and came upon you by accident, just as I was admiring the extremely ghostly look of your house, and wondering whether anybody would ever come and live there again. It looks like the castle of Macbeth, or a scene from the opera. Do you know anybody here?” “Hardly a soul! Do you?” “No. Aunt Bluebell said it was our duty to come. It is easy for her to go out; she does not bear the burden of the conversation.” “I am sorry you find it a burden,” said I. “Shall I go away?” Miss Lammas looked at me with a sudden gravity in her beautiful eyes, and there was a sort of hesitation about the lines of her full, soft mouth.