Mr. Fogo held his umbrella between his knees and gave them a hand
a-piece.

"I am afraid, Mr.--" He hesitated with a suspicion that he ought to
say "Messrs."

"Dearlove," suggested Caleb; "an' reckoned a purty name, too."

"I am afraid, Mr. Dearlove," repeated Mr. Fogo, compromising matters
by staring hard between the Twins, "that we have interrupted you."

"Not at all, sir," said Peter. "Sit down, sir, ef you'm not proud.
Tamsin, bring a cup for the gentleman. A piece o' pasty, sir?
Tamsin es famous for pasties."

Mr. Fogo, remembering that, with the exception of the mug of beer at
the "King of Prussia," he had not broken his fast since the morning,
and seeing also that the hospitality was anxiously sincere, complied.
In a few moments both he and Caleb were seated before a steaming
pasty.

Tamsin poured out the tea. She was a full twenty years younger than
her brothers, as could be seen notwithstanding their boyish look,
which came from innocence and clean-shaven faces. It was pleasant to
see their almost fatherly pride in her. Mr. Fogo noted it vaguely,
but an inexplicable nervousness seemed to have overtaken him since
entering the cottage.

"I came," he said at last, "to inquire about Kit's House, which I