y-painted cups and
saucers, which Mr. Mortimer produced from a gaudily-painted cupboard,
made part of the romance. Tilda had never seen the like. They were
decorated round the rims with bands of red and green and yellow; the
very egg-cups were similarly banded; and portraits of the late Queen
Victoria and the Prince Consort decorated the cupboard's two panels.

Breakfast over, she helped Mr. Mortimer to wash up, and while she helped
was conscious of a new and uncomfortable feeling, of which she could
make no account with herself. It was not the stuffiness of the cabin
that oppressed her; nor the dread of pursuit; nor anxiety for Arthur
Miles, lest he should run off and fall into mischief. By stooping a
little she could keep him in view, for he had settled himself on the
after-deck, and was playing with 'Dolph--or, rather, was feeling
'Dolph's ears and paws in a wondering fashion, as one to whom even a dog
was something new and marvellous; and 'Dolph, stretched on his side in
the sunshine, was undergoing the inspection with great complaisance.
No; the cause of her restlessness was yet to seek.

She went out and sat upon the cabin step for awhile, deep in thought,
her eyes fixed on Sam Bossom, who, just beyond the cabin roof, was
stooping over the well and untying its tarpaulins. By and by she sprang
to her feet and walked forward to him.

"Mr. Bossom," she said with decision, "I know what's the matter with
me."

"Then," answered Sam, "you 're luckier than most people."

"I want a wash."

"Do you, now? Well, as to that, o' course you're the best judge; but I
'adn't noticed it."

"You wouldn't, 'ardly," said Tilda, "seein' as I 'ad one on'y yestiddy.
But that's the worst of 'orspitals. They get you inside, an' a'most
before you know where you are, they've set up a 'abit. I dessay it'll
wear off, all right; but oh, Mr. Bossom--"

"Would you mind callin' me Sam? It's more ushual."

"Oh, Mr. Sam, this mornin' I'm feelin' it all over. If I got a pailful
out o' the canal, now?"

"I wouldn' recommend it--not 'ereabouts." Sam, eyeing her with his head
cocked slightly aside, spoke gently as one coaxing a victim of the drink
habit. "But, as it 'appens, a furlong this side of Ibbetson's you'll
find the very place. Take Arthur Miles along with you. He'll be
thankful for it, later on--an' I'll loan you a cake o' soap."

CHAPTER X.

THE FOUR DIAMONDS.

"_Where the hazel bank is steepest,
Where t