Mrs Pinet, who was one of those plump and rosy ladies with nice elastic flesh, which springs up again wherever time has made a crease, so that it does not show, bridled a little, and became very much interested in her row of geraniums in the parlour window, every one of which had lately been made more ornamental by a coat of red lead over its pot. For Mrs Pinet did not yet know better. She had known better five years before, when Gemp had asked her to wed; but at the time present she was wondering whether, if Mr Thickens at the bank, where her little store of money lay, should fail, after all, to make her an offer, it was possible that Mr Robert Hallam might think it very nice to have some one to go on always taking so much care of his linen as she did, and seeing that his breakfast bacon was always nicely broiled, his coffee clear, and his dinners exactly as he liked to have them. Certainly he was a good deal younger than she was; but she did not see why the wife should not be the elder sometimes, as well as the husband. Hence it was that Gemp's words jarred. "Seems rum, don't it?" continued Gemp. "I went by the other day, and there he was with his coat off, helping Luttrell, wheeling barrows, and I've seen him weeding before now." "Well, I'm sure it's very kind of him," said Mrs Pinet quickly. She could not speak tartly; her physique and constitution forbade. "Oh, yes, it's very kind of him indeed; but he'd better be attending to his work." "I'm sure he works very hard in the place." "Oh, yes. Of course he does; but, don't you see?" "See? No! See what?" "He--he--he! And you women pretend to be so sharp about these things. What does he go there gardening for?" "Why, goodness gracious me, Mr Gemp, you don't think--" "Think? Why, I'm sure of it. I see a deal of what's going on, Mrs Pinet. I never look for it, but it comes. Why, he's always there. He helps Luttrell when he's at home; and old mother Luttrell talks to him about her jam. That's his artfulness; he isn't too young for that. Gets the old girl on his side." "But do you really think--Why, she's never had a sweetheart yet." "That we know of, Mrs P.," said Gemp, with a meaning look. "She never has had," said Mrs Pinet emphatically, "or we should have known. Well, she's very handsome, and very nice, and I hope they'll be very happy. But do you really think it's true?" "True? Why, he's always there of an evening, tootling on the flute and singing." "Oh, but that's nothing; Mr Hallam goes there too, and has some music." "Ay, but Hallam don't go out with her picking flowers, and botalising. I've often seen 'em come home together with arms full o' rubbish; and one day, what do you think?" "Really, Mr Gemp!" "I dropped upon 'em down in a ditch, and when they saw me coming, they pretended that they were finding little snail-shells." "Snail-shells?"