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"You say Stanhope? Why, man alive! I've been looking high and low for you. What do you think of that, Doctor, I've found him at last!" "She floats in like a swan," said Miss Acton. "Be here," said he, "on Saturday next. It may be that I'll give you the berth. No more words. Off with you!".

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Softly the last note died, and then the player emerged from the grove. He was little and bent. He wore a ragged suit of corduroys and a battered felt hat with a red feather stuck jauntily in its band. His face was small, dark, and unshaven. In one grimy hand he carried a small demijohn. Arriving opposite Caleb, he lifted his battered hat and bowed low as a courtier would do. Wilson came over and laid a work-hardened hand gently on her heaving shoulder. "There now. Nobody 'ud believe it. An' yet I saw it." "I'll speak to Miss Acton. I am sure she will have something that is good for rheumatism, and if she has I will send it you.".