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 the door of the gardener’s cottage where she had lodgings.

‘Upon my honour!’ cried he, ‘there was never before such a beautiful thing in Nature or Art as you look, “Cousin” Tess [“Cousin” had a faint ring of mockery]. I have been watching you from over the wall—sitting like Im-patience on a monument, and pouting up that pretty red mouth to whistling shape, and whooing and whooing, and privately swearing, and never being able to produce a note. Why, you are quite cross because you can’t do it.’

‘I am cross, but I didn’t swear.’

‘Ah! I understand why you are trying—those bullies! My mother wants you to carry on their musical education. How selfish of her! As if attending to these curst cocks and hens here were not enough work for any girl. I would flatly refuse, if I were you.’

‘But she wants me particularly to do it, and to be ready by to-morrow morning.’

‘Does she? Well then—I’ll give you a lesson or two.’

‘Oh no, you won’t!’ said Tess, withdrawing towards the door.