the
knotted, trembling hands; "you know that I will not allow you to carry
those heavy things upstairs yourself." He raised his voice to
sing-song pitch near the withered old ear. "I have already told you
that when Renny is not at home, I can take my food in your kitchen."

Margery paused, after her wont, to wait till the sounds had filtered
as far as her intellect, then proceeded to give a few angry
headshakes.

"Eh! Eh! It would become Sir Adrian Landale o' Pulwick--Barrownite--to
have 's meat i' the kitchen--it would that. Nay, nay, Mester Adrian,
I'm none so old but I can do my day's work yet. Ah! an' it 'ud be well
if that gomerl, Renny Potter, 'ud do his'n. See here, now, Mester
Adrian, nowt but a pint of wine left; and it the last," pointing her
withered finger, erratically as the palsy shook it, at a cut-glass
decanter where a modicum of port wine sparkled richly under the
facets. "And he not back yet, whatever mischief's agate wi' him,
though he kens yo like your meat at one." And then circumstances
obliged her to add: "He is landing now, but it's ower late i' the
day."

"So--there, Margery," sang the "Squire," giving his old nurse
affectionate little taps on the back. "Never fash yourself; tides
cannot always fit in with dinner-hours, you know. And as for poor
Renny, I believe after all you are as fond of him, at the bottom of
your heart, as I am. Now what good fare have you got for me to-day?"
bending from his great height to inspect the refection, "Ah--hum,
excellent."

The old woman, after another pause for comprehension, retired battling
with dignity against the obvious pleasure caused by her master's
affectionate familiarity, and the latter sat down at a small table in
front of the south window.

Through this deep, port-hole-like aperture he could, whilst disposing
of his simple meal, watch the arrival of the yawl which did ferrying
duty between Scarthey and the mainland. The sturdy little craft,
heavily laden with packages, was being hauled up to its usual place of
safety high on the shingle bank, under cover of a remnant of walling
which in the days of the castle's strength had been a secure
landing-place for the garrison's boats, but which now was almost
filled by the cast-up sands and stone of the beach.

This was done under the superintendence of Rene, man of all work, and
with the mechanical intermediary of rollers and capstan, by a small
white horse shackled to a lever, and patiently grind