arsley," she says. "It had
a beard."

"It's the half light," I says. "One can imagine anything."

"I do hope I'm not getting nervy," she says.

I thought I'd have another look round, and made the excuse that I
wanted a pail of water. I was stooping over the well, which is just
under the mulberry tree, when something fell close to me and lodged
upon the bricks. It was a hairpin. I fixed the cover carefully upon
the well in case of accident, and when I got in I went round myself and
was careful to see that all the curtains were drawn.

Just before we three sat down to dinner again I took cook aside.

"I shouldn't go for any stroll in the garden to-night," I says. "People
from the village may be about, and we don't want them gossiping." And
she thanked me.

Next night they were there again. I thought I wouldn't spoil the
dinner, but mention it afterwards. I saw to it again that the curtains
were drawn, and slipped the catch of both the doors. And just as well
that I did.

I had always heard that Mr. Parable was an amusing speaker, but on
previous visits had not myself noticed it. But this time he seemed ten
years younger than I had ever known him before; and during dinner,
while we were talking and laughing quite merry like, I had the feeling
more than once that people were meandering about outside. I had just
finished clearing away, and cook was making the coffee, when there came
a knock at the door.

"Who's that?" says Mr. Parable. "I am not at home to anyone."

"I'll see," I says. And on my way I slipped into the kitchen.

"Coffee for one, cook," I says, and she understood. Her cap and apron
were hanging behind the door. I flung them across to her, and she
caught them; and then I opened the front door.

They pushed past me without speaking, and went straight into the
parlour. And they didn't waste many words on him either.

"Where is she?" asked Miss Bulstrode.

"Where's who?" says Mr. Parable.

"Don't lie about it," said Miss Bulstrode, making no effort to control
herself. "The hussy you've been dining with?"

"Do you mean Mrs. Meadows?" says Mr. Parable.

I thought she was going to shake him.

"Where have you hidden her?" she says.

It was at that moment cook entered with the coffee.

If they had taken the trouble to look at her they might have had an
idea. The tray was trembling in her hands, and in her haste and
excitement she had put on her cap the wrong way round. But she