Page:Quiller-Couch--Old fires and profitable ghosts.djvu/269

Rh rain-pipes, and moss dappled the gravel walk. In the border at my feet someone had attempted a clearance of the weeds; and here lay his hoe, matted with bindweed and ring-streaked with the silvery tracks of snails.

"Very well, Lobelia. We will be sensible house-maid and cook, and talk of business. We came out, I believe, to cut a cabbage-leaf to make an apple-pie"— At this point happening to turn her head she caught sight of me, and stopped with a slight, embarrassed laugh. I raised my hat.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but no strangers are admitted here."

"I beg your pardon"—I began; and with that, as I shifted my walking-stick, my foolish ankle gave way, and plump I sat in the very middle of the bindweed.

"You are ill?" She came quickly towards me, but halted a pace or two off. "You look as if you were going to faint."

"I'll try not to," said I. "The fact is, I have just twisted my ankle on the side of Skirrid, and I wished to be told the shortest way to the station."

"I don't believe you can walk; and"—she hesitated a second, then went on defiantly—"we have no carriage to take you."

"I should not think of putting you to any such trouble."

"Also, if you want to reach Aber, there is no