proved an unconscionably slow courtier. Mary, for her
part, when she was teased about him and asked if he did not yet show
anxiety to reach the happy day, always tossed her head and said that
she was in no hurry, that she doubted if she could ever tear herself
away from Vine-Pits, and so on.

Then, at last, a shocking discovery was made. Mary, after an afternoon
out, came home with her face all red and blubbered, sat in the kitchen
sobbing and rocking herself, and told Mavis how she had heard on
unimpeachable authority that the higgler was a married man. He had
always been married--and poor Mary confessed that she was very fond of
him, although so angry with him for his disgraceful treatment of her.

On the next visit of the higgler Dale was lying in wait for him.

"Come inside, please. I'd like a few words with you, Mr. Druitt;" and
the higgler was led through the kitchen, and up the three steps into
the adjacent room.

Here, as soon as the door had been shut, Mr. and Mrs. Dale both
tackled him. Dale was very fine, like a magistrate, so dignified as
well as so severe, accusing the culprit of playing fast and loose with
a young woman, of arousing feelings in her bosom which he was not in
a position to satisfy.

"A girl," said Mavis, "that we consider under our charge, as much as
if she was our daughter."

"Who looks to us," said Dale, "for guardianship and protection."

Mr. Druitt, sitting on the edge of his chair, smiling foolishly,
nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen door, and gave a queer
sort of wink.

"Meaning _her?_"

"Yes, who else should we mean?"

"I've never said a word of love to her in my life."

"Oh, how," cried Mavis, "can you make such a pretense?"

"Because it's the truth."

"But," said Mavis, indignantly, "you've made her fond of you. You've
courted her."

The higgler distinctly preened himself, and smiled archly. "Ah,
there's a language of the eyes, which speaks perhaps when the lips are
sealed."

Mavis was angry and disgusted. "You, a married man!"

Dale, outraged too, spoke with increasing sternness. "You don't deny
you've got a wife?"

The higgler answered very gravely. "Mr. Dale, that's my misfortune,
not my fault. But my wife isn't going to last forever, and the day
she's gone--that is, the day after I've buried her decently--I shall
come here to Mary Parsons and say 'Mary'--mind you, I've never called
her Mary yet--I shall say, 'Mary, my lips are unsealed, and