Page:Tom Beauling (1901).pdf/14

 served a lady and a child walking along the road-side of the fence which divided his private garden from the public street. His eyes were almost back at certain statements regarding July wheat, when the tail of them caught an arm, black-gloved to the elbow, in the act of pushing open his smart green gate. A large picture-hat of soft colors, capping a slim figure in white, drooped up the gravel walk between the neat little six-inch square hedges of box. One black-gloved hand crumpled a white muslin handkerchief; the other rested picturesquely, but by no means unlovingly, on the further shoulder of a sturdy little boy of five. One of the white-figured curtains of the window put an abrupt end to observation.

It was Sunday, and Judge Tyler's ancient Irish servant was at the afternoon service of her church, so that the knocking which presently fell upon the door obliged him (not suffering from cheerfulness especially) to go and open it himself.

The lady stood weakly on the thresh-