looking fellow, with long black
hair all any way under his broad bonnet--something between a gipsy and
a black-corked minstrel at a fair."

"And his sister?"

"Oh," said Nance shortly, "I know little of her. She is old enough to
be the mother of the lot, and if any of them have any sense it is Aphra
Orrin--or Miss Orrin, as Mr. Stennis makes all call her. She is sixty,
if she is a day. But she plays with her brood of antic lunatics all
about the gardens, singing and making a mock of religion. Grown women
they all are, but like so many scarecrows in their dress. Laird
Stennis, they say, wanted their sister to send them to a home for such
like. But she would not, and Jeremy was against it, too, so there they
bide, a disgrace to all the countryside, though harmless enough, God
knows."

Then Elsie's eyes met mine. We nodded as Nance finished her tale.
Both of us knew that we meant to go and see for ourselves to-morrow
what mysteries were contained within the Deep Moat in the Grange Hollow.

CHAPTER V

WE MEET DAFT JEREMY

The next morning, bright and early, Elsie and I were up and out.
Indeed, I was throwing up stones at her window when she was already
dressed and out in the little back garden feeding the hens. Of course
I know I should have tried to dissuade Elsie from going on such an
errand. But I knew that would only make her all the keener to go.
And, indeed, once she had taken a thing in her head she would go
through with it in spite of everything.

Poor Harry Foster and his fate was always in the background of my mind.
But not so much, as I could see, in Elsie's. Now I like my father well
enough, as fathers go. He is a grocer, not at all mysterious, but
makes lots of money. Now if, instead, he were the Red Rover of the
Seas--well, bless me if I would give twopence to find out about him.

But of course Elsie is different. She always was different from every
one else, and now she was keen as a terrier at a rat hole to find out
all about the Stennises, and the queer crew that was battening on her
grandfather, old Hobby, the Golden Farmer of Deep Moat Hollow.

Before I saw her, Elsie had made Nance's breakfast, shared it, and seen
her off to her work. Nance was in great demand. She could act as
foreman or grieve on occasion, and people who wanted their work quickly
done, like my father, used often to give Nance as much as a shilling a
day extra for coming to them.

I don't think either o