During the next few days, I occasionally met Miss Destiny and her servant in the village. They went shopping together, and the little old lady beat down the prices of everyone, however cheap the goods she wanted might originally be. I believe she enjoyed the squabble, and certainly her tongue clacked from morning to night in the endeavor to get her own sordid way. She was a miser, pure and simple, and had contracted the disease--for that it was--from the late Gabriel Monk. Everyone hated Miss Destiny, for in addition to being avaricious, she had a desperately evil tongue, and dealt with one and all from the point of view of a misanthrope. That is, she never said a good word of anyone, but babbled out many bad ones, so that she set people by the ears constantly. She might have abused me, for all I knew, but if she did, her demeanor to my face was extremely pleasant. When we met, she always hinted roguishly at my love for her niece, and chaffed me about the same. At times I wondered if she discussed my presence at Burwain with Gertrude. I thought not, as my meetings with the goddess were always marked by a perfectly unembarrassed manner on her part. Moreover, aunt and niece did not get on well together, and only exchanged formal visits. Miss Destiny--as I gathered from Mrs. Gilfin's ready tongue--had never forgiven Gertrude for inheriting the missing fortune, and always expressed herself pleased that it could not be found. Although I had been over a fortnight at Burwain, Mr. Walter Monk was still absent from the old Jacobean mansion, and Gertrude lived there with one servant in nun-like seclusion. She read a great deal, and played the piano and attended to Puddles--a great stand-by against loneliness. Joseph also was frequently about the garden, but I don't think she ever gave him a word--on Mrs. Gilfin's authority I can say this--unless it had to do with his duties. But he hung round the place like a stray dog, satisfied if he could catch only a glimpse of Gertrude, and was in the seventh heaven if she addressed a word to him. Miss Destiny spoke to me of the gardener's infatuation, which was apparent to everyone. "You have met Joseph?" she asked me one day in her mincing manner. "At Mootley, when he was setting his aunt's house in order," I informed her genially. I was always genial with Miss Destiny, as for my own purposes I wished to keep on good terms with her. "Ah, yes. He inherited Anne's savings. Quite a nice little sum, I believe. And the lease of the shop also," added Miss Destiny musingly, "Gertrude might do worse." "What do you mean?" I asked sharply, and, I fear, angrily. The little old lady raised her twinkling sharp eyes to my annoyed face. "I forgot," she said impishly, "you are the other one." "The other what, Miss Destiny?" "Lover--the second Prince Charming; though I think," she remarked in a very spiteful tone, "that the first Prince is the handsomer."