Gard had moved over to Plaisance with great regret. But nothing else was
possible under the altered circumstances at La Closerie, so he made the
best of it.

It was some consolation to learn that they also missed him.

"Everything's different," grumbled Bernel, one day when they met. "Tom
and his wife quarrel so that we can hear them through the walls. And
Grannie sits by the hour without opening her mouth. And mother and Nance
are as quiet as if they were going to be sick. And I'm getting
green-mouldy. Seems as if we'd got to the end of things, and nothing was
ever going to happen again. I think I'll go to Guernsey."

"Do you think they'd like--I mean, would they mind if I came in for a
chat now and then? It's pretty lonely up at Plaisance too."

"Oh, they'll mind and so will I. When'll you come?"

"I'll look in to-night as I come from the mines--if you're sure--"

"You come and try, and if you don't like it you needn't come
again"--with a twinkle of the eye.

Nance did not strike him as looking as though she were going to be sick,
when he went in that night, nor did her mother.

Grannie indeed had little to say, but then she was never over-talkative,
and when Gard more than once looked at her, and wondered if she had
fallen asleep, he always found the keen old eyes wide open, and eyeing