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"I was sent down here to give you a message, Mr. Shipley," said Billy. September passed laden with summer perfumes and song and, beneath a blanket of hoar frost, October awoke to send her hazy heralds far across wooded upland and open. Slowly those wreathing mists kissed leaf and fern, as though whispering: "Rest sweetly, until spring brings you back once again." "She don't know how awful lonesome it is settin' still so long," sighed Maurice, casting an appealing eye on Billy's mother. "I wisht you'd ask her to let me go as far as your place with you, Missus Wilson," he pleaded, lowering his voice. "Billy kin trail 'long back with me an' see I don't cut up any.".

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"He thinks you're guyin' him," said the other man. "How's he to know what you mean by 'fishin'-outfit?' He likely thinks you mean a rod and reel. Better push along and mind your own business. Next thing you're goin' to say is somethin' about 'shootin' a well,' and if Jacobs gets to hear of that kinder talk—" The conversation at the Admiral's instance, and to his own and the relief of Captain Acton and his daughter, was now changed into a few questions and answers which have nothing whatever to do with this narrative; and after a visit that had lasted about twenty minutes, Mr Fellowes took his leave, cordially and with a hearty handshake bidding his old captain God-speed and farewell, and bowing with dignity and much respect and a pleasant kindness of expression of face to Captain Acton,[Pg 425] and the sweet girl whose story, had the Admiral or Captain Acton thought fit to relate it, would no doubt have exchanged his light, superficial, uncritical regard into a gaze of admiration and astonishment. Meanwhile, Mr Lawrence had gone about three-quarters of a mile and was now approaching his father's home. The Admiral's cottage was in a lane off the main road. It was such an umbrageous retreat as Cowper, had he been in earnest, would have hastened to when he sighed for some boundless contiguity of shade. It stood in a little land protected by hedges and walls full of orchards. The Admiral lived in the heart of groves of cherry, plum, apple, pear, and other fruitful trees which presently,[Pg 52] in this month of April, would make the scene round about as beautiful as driven snow shone upon by the sun, with almond-white flowers. Wilson nodded, "Yes, Mary?".