Then it was that Mrs. Solent turned upon her son with wide-open eyes and gave him a prolonged stare.

“Well!” she exclaimed at last, while her tilted parasol sank down, “there it is!⁠ ⁠… I think,” she resumed, slowly and casually, “I’ll go back to the cottage and do a little gardening before tea. If I mustn’t tidy up your graveyard, at least I can tidy up my landlord’s garden! Digging in the earth for an hour or two will give me an inspiration perhaps about all our affairs. I’m tired of this treat and I’ve done my share.”

“All right, Mother,” he said, casting a quick glance after Gerda, whose muslin frock and blue hat were now disappearing over the wall; “I’ll take you a little way and then go back.”