When the eyes of Mr. Beam fell upon these two, who stood plainly visible in the moonlight, while he and Mrs. Petter were in shadow, his trouble was dissipated by a mischievous hilarity. "Well, well, well!" said he, "she _is_ a woman." "Of course she is," said Mrs. Petter; "and what of that, I'd like to know?" "Now that I think of it," said Lanigan, with a finger on the side of his nose, "I remember that she and her young man didn't have much to say to each other at supper. Quarreled, perhaps. And she is comforting herself with a little flirt with Mr. Petter." "Lanigan Beam, you ought to be ashamed of yourself," cried the good lady; "you know Mr. Petter never flirts." "Well, perhaps _he_ doesn't," said Lanigan; "but if I were you, Mrs. Petter, I would take him out a shawl or something to put over his shoulders. He oughtn't to be standing out there in the night wind." "I shall do nothing of the kind," she answered shortly, "and I oughtn't to be out here in the night air either." Lanigan gazed at Mrs. Cristie and her companion. If that charming young widow wanted some one to walk about with her in the moonlight, she could surely do better than that. Perhaps a diversion might be effected and partners changed. "Mrs. Petter," said he, "I wouldn't go in, if I were you. If you move about you will be all right. Suppose we stroll over that way." "I am ready to stroll," said Mrs. Petter, in a tone that showed she had been a good deal stirred by her companion's remarks, "but I am not going to stroll over that way. The place is big enough for people to keep to themselves, if they choose, and I am one that chooses, and I choose to walk in the direction of my duty, or, more properly, the duty of somebody else, and see that the hen-houses are shut"; and, taking Lanigan's arm, she marched him down to the barn, and then across a small orchard to the most distant poultry-house within the limits of the estate. When Mr. Stephen Petter, allowing his eyes to drop from the pointed roof of his high tower, saw his wife and Lanigan Beam walking away among the trees in the orchard, he suddenly became aware that the night air was chilly, and suggested to his companion that it might be well to return to the house. "Oh, not yet, Mr. Petter," said she; "I want you to tell me how you came to have that little turret over the thatched roof." She had determined that she would not go indoors while Calthea Rose and Mr. Lodloe sat together on that bench.