league, sur." "How do you know?"

"They've bin a-promenadin' together nearly every day since Christmas;
and when a feller like that 'ere Woltaire goes a-walkin' with a creature
like that hancient wirgin on his arm, then I think there must be
somethin' on board."

"But this is purely surmise, Simon. There is no reason why Miss Staggles
and Mr. Voltaire may not walk together."

"There's more than surmise, sur. You know the plantation up behind the
house, Mr. Blake?"

"The fir plantation? Very well."

"Well, sur, the night afore last I wur up there. They are hevin' a kind
of Christmas-tree in one of the Sunday schools over in the willage
to-night, and some o' the teachers came to the guv'nor and asked him for
a tree to put some knick-knacks on. So he says to me, 'Simon,' says he,
'go up in the plantation and pull up a young fir tree, and then in the
morning put it in the cart and take it over to the school-room.' This
was day afore yesterday, in the afternoon. I was busy jist then, so I
didn't go to the plantation till 'twas dusk. However, as you know, yer
honour, 'tis moonlight, so I didn't trouble. Well, I got a young fir
tree pulled up, and was jist a-going to light my pipe, when I see some
figures a-comin' threw the plantation towards a summer-'ouse that was
put up 'bout two year ago. So I lied luff. 'I believe,' I says, 'that
it's that hinfidel and the skinny wirgin a-walkin' together.' They goes
into the summer-'ouse, and then I creeps down, and gets behind a tree,
but close enough to the couple to hear every word. Sure 'nough, sur, I
wur right; it was the wirgin Staggles and this 'ere Woltaire.

"'They seemed quarrellin' like when I come up, for she wur sayin'--

"'Tis no use, she never will.'

"'Nonsense!' says he. 'Give her time, and poison her mind against that
Blake, and she'll come around.'

"'I've done that,' says she. 'I've told her that Mr. Blake is a regular
male flirt; that he's had dozens of love affairs with girls; and,
besides that, I told her that her marked preference for him was being
talked about.'

"'Yes,' says Woltaire, 'and see how she's treated him since.'

"'True enough,' says she; 'but it's made her no softer towards you. If
she avoids him, she dislikes you.'

"'And do you think she cares about Blake?' says he.

"'I don't know,' she replies. 'She never would tell me anything, and
that's why I dislike her so. But, for all that, she's no hypocrite.'

"'Well, what for that?' he