"_I could die of shame. It was all that hussy of a girl. She did it
for a joke. I'll joke her. But what will you be thinking?--P. W._"


Master Simon rowed down to Ponteglos that very afternoon, and the two
carriers went back with him. Happiness seemed to have shaken its
wings and quite departed from "Pandora's Box"; but a twinkle of
something not entirely unlike hope lurked in the corners of the
waitress's eyes--albeit their lids were red and swollen--as she
ushered Master Simon into the best parlour.

"What can you be thinking of me?" began the widow. _Her_ eyes were
red and swollen, too.

"I've brought back the pigeons."

"I can never bear the sight of them again!"

"You might begin different, you know," suggested Master Simon,
affably. "Some little message about the weather, for instance.
Have you given that girl warning to leave?"

"You see, I'm so lonely here . . ."


Some three months after this, and on an exceptionally fine morning in
September, Master Simon put Harmony, his celebrated almond hen, into
her travelling hamper, and marched over to the crossroads to take
coach for Illogan, in the mining district, where the matches for the