Can you see me, gray eyes, Hiding in the tree, Waiting for the moonrise? Gray eyes, look at me, In the apple-tree. Apple-tree, apple-tree. He had on a mortar-board cap, a white collar reaching up to his ears, an enormous black bow tie, a red satin waistcoat hung with chains, and his face was blacked except for one eye and a quarter of an inch all round his mouth. He carried a banjo. As he saw Ann he drew his hand across the strings and croaked out in a hoarse voice: "Give us a kiss, old dear, I'm that hellish dry." "Oh, go on. You got to behave yourself now, Jimmy, now you got a lodger." "Like old times," said Jimmy. "Ma had lodgers. What Ma didn't know about lodgers----" "Give it a rest," said Ann. "Do keep off the comic for a bit. Mr. Fourmy wants to get to bed. So do I, and you'll have the neighbors up, the way voices go ringing up the mews. Good night." She turned away. "Good night, old gal," said Jimmy, and he led René up the stairs of No. 10. "Good sort, that gal. Likes her bit o' fun same as any gal, but she's a tiddler, she is. Independent! I don't fink. Gals look arter theirselves nowadays. Cos why? Cos they're three to one. We don't go round, us men. What a awful thought! There's your bed, Mr. ---- What's your name? 'Ardly a gent's bed, but you can lie on it, and what more can be said of any bed?" He went into the inner room and began undressing, talking all the while, explaining that minstrelsy was only one of his professions, that he had had a rotten day, not a smile in the world; that he wouldn't try again for a week, not if he starved; that Mr. Fourmy must be prepared for a shock when he saw him without his black, as it made such a difference, and that there was a silver lining to every cloud. He got into bed without removing his black, for René heard no sound of water, and talked himself to sleep. . . . René lay sleepless, this third night of his adventure, and rejoiced as one who had awakened from a long and painful dream. Jimmy amused him, Ann amused him, and all amusement was new to him. Jimmy woke up talking, ran out in nightshirt and trousers, and returned with a jug of beer and a loaf of bread. That was breakfast. He sat on René's bed and they consumed their fare together. "Gardening to-day," said Jimmy. "Ladies all want their gardens dug up these days. I got two or three gardens. They call me Gardener, though I ain't no blooming gardener. 'D'you think sweet peas will do in the smoke, gardener?' they say. I dunno, but I sticks 'em all in. They gets it all out of a book, and what's good enough for them is good enough for me. Gardener! Well, here's luck!" And René said: "Here's luck!"