s eyes grew round in his head as he stared at Mrs.
Banfield, who answered by nodding her head briskly, as though each nod
was the tap of a hammer driving home a nail.

"What? Eli Tregarthen--that married Cara's younger daughter--that used
to live--" The Commandant recited this much in the fashion of a child
repeating "The House that Jack Built." His gaze wandered past Mrs.
Banfield to the blue-painted doorway behind her.

"It don't matter, that I can see, where the woman used to live," said
Mrs. Banfield; "but it do matter to my mind that a Tregarthen has
farmed Saaron for six generations, and now 'tis pack-and-go for 'em."

"But why?"

"Why?" echoed Mrs. Banfield, fiercely. "Because, as you was tellin'
just now, sir, my lord has a strong will. Because my lord wants Saaron
for his own. Because he wants to shoot rabbits. Because rabbits be of
more account to him than men--and I don't blame him for it, seein' that
all the men on the Islands be turned to mice in these days. Oh, 'tis an
old tale! But there! You never heard of it. You never heard--not
you--that the man was even unjust!"

"But, my dear Mrs. Banfield----"

"Go'st thy ways, good Governor. You was the poor man's friend--one
time; but now there's too much Christianity in you.... And no more will
I answer until you tells me who your guest is, that eats two breakfasts
in one morning."

The Commandant gazed at her in mild surprise. Doubtless he would have
asked the meaning of this cryptic utterance; but at this moment the two
seamen from the _Milo_ issued forth from the gateway up the road; and,
descending a few paces, turned to call back farewell to Mrs. Treacher,
who, having escorted them so far, halted under the arch and stood, with
hands on hips, to watch them out of sight.

"Wish 'ee well, I'm sure!" said Mrs. Treacher. "You understand we be
poor people in these parts."

"Don't mention that, ma'am," said one of the seamen, politely.

"There's no talk of favours, as between us and Madame," called out the
other.

They passed the Commandant and saluted. On a sudden it struck him that
these men would expect a small monetary acknowledgment for their
trouble; and hastily nodding good-morning to Mrs. Banfield and Mrs.
Medlin, he ran staggering up the slope to the gateway.

"Mrs. Treacher!" he panted, dumping down his burden, "I--er--it so
happens that I have no small change about me."

"Me either," said Mrs. Treacher, idiomatically, and bent over the