“I could not do violence to my conscience for anything less than ten shillings,” she announced stiffly.

Mother and daughter muttered certain remarks under their breath, in which the word “beast” was prominent, and probably had no reference to Tarquin.

“I find I have got another half-crown,” said Mrs. Stossen in a shaking voice; “here you are. Now please fetch someone quickly.”

Matilda slipped down from the tree, took possession of the donation, and proceeded to pick up a handful of overripe medlars from the grass at her feet. Then she climbed over the gate and addressed herself affectionately to the boar-pig.

“Come, Tarquin, dear old boy; you know you can’t resist medlars when they’re rotten and squashy.”