s when it was
kind to, and destroy the snares. And he used the bring "bunny-rabbits"
(which other people call snapdragons) of the loveliest colors to plant
in the little garden known as Joan's Corner. I should like to tell you
more about Charles (but there isn't time) because I am fond of him. If
I hadn't been I shouldn't have let him have Joan.

EPILOGUE

At cockcrow came the call which in that orchard was now as familiar as
the rooster's.

"Maids! Maids! Maids!"

Martin Pippin was leaning over the green wicket throwing jam tarts to
the ducks. Because in the Well-House Gillian had not left so much as a
crumb. But when he heard Old Gillman's voice, he flicked a bull's-eye
at the drake, getting it very accurately on the bill, and walked across
to the gap.

"Good morning, master," said Martin cheerfully. "Pray how does Lemon,
Joscelyn's Sussex, fare?"

Old Gillman put down his loaves with great deliberation, and spent a
few minutes taking Martin in. Then he answered, "There's scant milk to
a Sussex, and allus will be. And if there was not, there'd be none to
Joscelyn's Lemon. And if there was, it would take more than Henry to
draw it. And so that's you, is it?"

"That's me," said Martin Pippin.

"Well," said Old Gillman, "I've spent the best of six mornings trying
not to see ye. And has my daughter taken the right road yet?"

"Yes, master," said Martin, "she has taken the road to Adversane."

"Which SHE'S spent the best of six months trying not to see," said Old
Gillman. "Women's a nuisance. Allus for taking the long cut round."

"I've known many a short cut," said Martin, "to end in a blind alley."

"Well, well, so long as they gets there," grunted Gillman. "And what's
this here?"

"A pair of steps," said Martin.

"What for?" said Gillman.

"Milkmaids and milkmen," said Martin.

"So they maids have cut too, have they?"

"It was a full moon, you see."

"I dessay. But if they'd gone by the stile they could have hopped it in
the dark six months agone," said Old Gillman. And he got over the
stile, which was the other way into the orchard and has not been
mentioned till now, and came and clapped Martin on the shoulder.

"Women's more trouble," said he, "than they're worth."

"They're plenty of trouble," said Martin; "I've never discovered yet
what they're worth."

"We'll not talk of em more. Come up to the house for a drink, boy,"
said Old Gillman.

Martin said pleasantly, "You can drink milk