"Yes," said the old man; "and then, next time you get washing out your bits o' lace and things, you'll go hanging 'em to dry on my trained plants in the sun." "No; I won't. There, I promise you I'll never do so any more." "Till nex' time.--I say, Fanny, when's Mr Arthur going back to London?" "I don't know," said the girl, rather sharply. "How can I tell?" "Oh, I thought p'r'aps he might have been telling you last night." "Telling me last night!" echoed the girl. "Where should he be telling me?" "Why, down the field-walk, to be sure, when he was a-talking to you." "That I'm sure he wasn't," cried the girl, changing colour. "Well, he was a-wagging his chin up and down and making sounds like words; and so was you, Fanny, my dear." "Oh, how can you say so!" "This way," said the old man, facing her and speaking very deliberately. "What was he saying to you?" "I--I wasn't--" "Stop a moment," said the old man. "Mr Arthur Prayle's such a religious-spoken sort o' gent, that I dessay he was giving you all sorts o' good advice, and I'm sure he wouldn't like you to tell a lie." "I'm not telling a lie; I'm not.--Oh, you wicked, deceitful, spying old thing!" she cried, bursting into tears. "How dare you come watching me!" "I didn't come watching you, my dear. I was down there with a pot, picking up the big grey slugs that come out o' the field into the garden; for they feeds the ducks, and saves my plants as well.--Now, lookye here, my dear; you're a very pretty girl, and it's very nice to be talked to by a young man, I dare say. I never cared for it myself; but young women do." "How dare you speak to me like that!" cried the girl, flaming up. "'Cause I'm an old man, and knows the ways o' the world, my dear. Mr Arthur comes down the garden to me and gives me bits o' religious instruction and advice like; but if he wants to give any to you, I think he ought to do it in the house, and give it to Martha Betts and cook at the same time." "It's all a wicked story," cried Fanny angrily; "and I won't stop here to be insulted!" "Don't, my dear. But I'm going to walk over to your brother William's to-night, and have a bit o' chat with him 'bout things in general, and I thought I'd give him my opinion on the pynte." Fanny had reached the door of the vinery; but these words stopped her short, and she came back with her face changing from red to white and back again. "You are going to tell my brother William?" "Yes, my dear, as is right and proper too. Sir James aren't fit to be talked to; and it's a thing as I couldn't say to her ladyship. It aren't in the doctor's way; and if I was to so much as hint at it to Miss Raleigh, she'd snap my head off, and then send you home."