I was still turning this over in my mind when Herrick sauntered into view down the road, accompanied by a stranger. Visitors were sufficiently rare in the neighbourhood, and as the two approached the house leisurely I studied the new-comer with some curiosity. He was a small man, of apparently some fifty years, sparsely bearded, and dressed in a very shabby knickerbocker suit of greenish tweeds. A soft felt hat covered his head and at least half his forehead; he wore dark glasses and carried a botanical collecting-box slung over his shoulder. There was something quaintly rabbit-like in his appearance, enhanced by the air of timidity with which he hung back while Herrick strode forward to the porch to greet me. "I want to introduce Mr. Crowfoot," Herrick said, with a gesture which had an effect of herding the mild little man up to the porch step as he might have herded some curious and inoffensive zoological specimen. "He is down here hunting orchids, and I came across him in the woods and brought him along to have a chat with you. You might be able to give him some hints about the country." I shook hands with the little man and gave him a chair on the porch, where he settled himself shyly, his collecting-box across his knee. "I'm afraid I don't know much about the flora round here," I said, "but I imagine Mr. Crowfoot will find a good deal to interest him." "Oh, I am only an amateur," said the little man. "I s---- I s---- I s-s----" He undoubtedly did, and the reason for his shyness stood forthwith revealed. He stammered, and had more than the usual sensitiveness of his infirmity. "S-simply indulge a hobby," he finished heroically. "It gives me an object for my leisure time. I s-s---- _presume_ you have lived here some time, Mr.----?" "Haverill--Doctor Haverill," Herrick prompted. "Haverill." He repeated it in a certain child-like way, as though to place the name definitely in his memory, and immediately I was conscious of a liking for him. He was at once so diffident and so meticulously polite. "On the contrary, I've been here only a month or so, taking a friend's place for the time. The country about is delightful, so far as I know it." "Delightful!" he echoed, and lapsed into a pleased silence, which lasted so long that Herrick rose. "I want to change my shoes," he said. "I've been up to the neck in bog. I don't know our resources, Austin, but I guess we can offer Mr. Crowfoot a drink?" "Water--I should l-like very much a plain glass of water," said the little botanist. "And a cigar at all events," I supplemented. "I should have some pretty decent cigars somewhere around that my predecessor left here. Look in the drawer in the surgery, Jack, will you?" Herrick reappeared a moment later with the box. "Excellent," said our new friend as he helped himself. "Excellent! Apparently you d-d-don't care for these cigars then, Doctor Haverill?" I laughed. "Oh, I only smoke a pipe, as a rule!"