Part 16 (1/2)

”Well, I have tried taking it with me, but it's not very satisfactory.”

”What would you say to coming here for it, as you used to? I think we could manage it, Nance. What do you say?”

”We could manage it all right,” said Nance, ”if--” and then, in spite of herself, she could not keep that telltale mouth of hers in order, and the attempt to repress a smile only emphasized the dimples at the corners. For Gard's face was as eager as a dog's at sight of a rat.

”It will save me such a lot of time,” he explained--at which Nance dimpled again as she went out to feed her chickens, and left them to complete the new arrangement.

And if it had cost Gard every penny of his salary he would still have rejoiced at it, and considered his bargain a good one. As it was, it cost him no more than the trouble of rearranging his terms with the good folks at Plaisance, and it gave a new zest and enjoyment to life since it ensured a meeting with Nance at least once each day.

And not with Nance only!

Madame Julie, very weary of herself, and Tom, and her surroundings, and Sark, and life in general as understood in Sark, very soon became conscious of the regular visits next door of the best-looking young man she had yet seen in the Island, and was filled with curiosity concerning him.

”He's after that slip of a Nance,” she said to herself. ”And he has his own share of good looks, has that young man.”--And then came the inevitable, ”Mon Dieu, but I wish Tom had been made like that!”

To get a better view of him--and perhaps not without a vague idea of ulterior interest and amus.e.m.e.nt for herself--anything to add a dash of colour to the prevailing greyness of her surroundings--she was leaning on the gate next day when he came striding up to his dinner, and gave him, ”Bon jour, m'sieur!” with much heartiness and the full benefit of her black eyes and white teeth.

”'Jour, madame!” and he whipped off his hat and pa.s.sed on into the house.

”That was Madame Tom, I suppose, who was leaning over the gate, as I came in,” he said, as they ate.

”I expect so,” said Mrs. Hamon. ”She generally seems to have time on her hands.”

”When Tom's not there,” snapped Grannie. ”Got her hands full enough when he is.”

”I should imagine Tom would not be too easy to get on with at times.

Maybe he'll settle down now he's married.”

”Doesn't sound like settling down sometimes,” chirped the old lady again.

”Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. She doesn't look bad-tempered.”

”Tom's got more'n enough for the two of them.”

”I'm afraid she finds it a change from what she's been accustomed to,”

said Mrs. Hamon quietly. ”She came in once or twice, but her talk is of things that don't interest us, and ours is of things that don't interest her, so we can't get as friendly as we would like to be.”

”And Tom?”

”Tom considers us all robbers, as he always has done. He gives us his blackest face whenever he sees any of us.”

”That's unpleasant, seeing you're such close neighbours.”

”Yes, it's unpleasant, but we can't help it. It's just Tom. How is your work getting on?”

”Not as I would wish,” said Gard, with a gloomy wag of the head. ”Your Sark men are difficult--very difficult, and the others who ought to know better, and who do know better”--with more than a touch of warmth--”go on as though I was a slave-driver.”

”Sark men are hard to drive,” said Mrs. Hamon sympathetically.