Presently, coming along the road in the direction of the town, they saw an odd-looking person dressed in black, with very tight trousers and a large black cravat. He walked quickly, with a curious, springy, almost dancing step, while he swung a gold-headed ebony stick. His clothes were shiny and worn, yet he presented the figure of a dandy; and as he raised his broad-brimmed hat with a fine flourish, and bowed to Aunt Caroline, he revealed a soft profusion of silky white hair, unexpected, because nothing else about him suggested age. His face was smooth, his complexion fresh and clear, his eyes extremely bright, and rather restless. His features were unusually refined, yet with a great boldness in the well-arched, predatory nose. Aunt Caroline introduced him to Grif and Ann as Mr. Clement Bradley, and Mr. Bradley acknowledged the introduction with high formality. “On my way to the post-office, Miss Annesley. Can I do anything for you in the town?... The fact is, I’m expecting important letters. I should be sorry to think that the postmistress had kept them back on purpose, but it is odd, very odd, that they have not reached me before this.” He spoke in a soft, clear voice, a little slowly, and with a somewhat pedantic nicety of enunciation. He had strange, sly eyes, Grif thought, and as he talked of his letters having been kept back they suddenly altered in expression, and became clear and shining like the eyes of a cat. When presently he stepped daintily on down the lane the others gazed after him, the children doubtfully, Aunt Caroline thoughtfully, Pouncer with unwonted hostility. “How funny he looks!” Ann declared. “And did you hear Bouncer growl?” Aunt Caroline still watched the retreating figure. “Bouncer was very naughty,” she murmured absently. “It’s not Bouncer, Aunt Caroline. It’s Pouncer. Ann can’t say words beginning with ‘p.’” “Who is he?” Ann questioned, with a curiosity that seldom failed her. “Is he a friend of yours?” “Yes. He’s grandpapa’s organist. I don’t know that he’s a very great friend exactly, but he’s been here for a good many years.” “_I_ think he must be rather eccentric,” Ann decided, after some pondering. “I quite agree with you,” Aunt Caroline laughed. “You’ll hear him playing in church on Sunday. His playing is rather eccentric too.” “Why? Does he makes mistakes?” “Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s only that he occasionally makes a good deal of noise. And then, he likes to practise at all kinds of queer hours――sometimes in the middle of the night.” There was a pause, and Ann said, “I’m not tired any longer.” “We might take a short-cut across the fields,” Aunt Caroline suggested. She moved on, this time quite slowly, and with Ann’s hot hand firmly clasped in her cool one. “Look at Bouncer! Isn’t he a silly old thing!” cried Ann.