e did not offend
Betty, she was always ready to give one a cup of tea, or do anything to
oblige one.

Betty lived down at Lamorna Cove, which was a little way out of Joan's
road, but she did not mind that if she could get Betty's company.
She walked quickly, though, for the days were short, and she had a long
way to go, and to be back in time to cook the Squire's supper.
On her way she met two of Betty's elder children carrying baskets of fish
on their backs, and down in the Cove she saw all the younger ones at play
with the limpets and crabs in the rock-pools, and paddling about in the
water. But she could not stay to watch them, for she had no time to
spare, so she hurried on to the cottage.

When she got there, though, to her astonishment she found the front door
was closed and fastened, not only latched either, but bolted! This was
such an unusual thing in those parts, that Joan was quite startled.
At first she thought something must really have gone amiss, then she
comforted herself by deciding that Betty had already started for the
market, and had locked the children out to keep them from ransacking the
place. Just, though, as she had settled all this in her mind, and was
about to turn away, the sound of voices reached her, and voices talking
very earnestly, too.

Joan looked round her nervously, the voices sounded quite near to her, but
there was no sight or sign of any living thing except some seagulls,
and Betty's old black cat.

What did it all mean? Joan was frightened, but her curiosity made her
stay and try to get to the bottom of the mystery. She stood quite still
and listened very closely. Yes, there were the voices again, plainly
enough, but where? She tiptoed close up to the door and placed her ear
against the keyhole. This time she heard Tom Trenance's voice quite
distinctly,--Tom was Betty's husband. He was talking very earnestly to
someone too, more earnestly than she had ever heard him speak in her life
before, but, try as she would, she could not make out to whom he was
speaking, nor what he was saying.

This was more than inquisitive Joan could endure. She must know what was
going on in that cottage, or she would know no peace day or night, for
thinking about it. So she made up her mind to knock and knock until those
inside were obliged to come to the door, but first of all she thought she
would have a peep in through the finger-hole by the latch. So she stooped
down and put her