to about the height of a fisherman's mast, and on the top was a vane
in the form of a sailor with his arm stretched out. When the sun
shone upon this figure it could be seen that the greater part of his
countenance was gone, and the paint washed from his body so far as
to reveal that he had been a soldier in red before he became a
sailor in blue. The image had, in fact, been John, one of our
coming characters, and was then turned into Robert, another of them.
This revolving piece of statuary could not, however, be relied on as
a vane, owing to the neighbouring hill, which formed variable
currents in the wind.

The leafy and quieter wing of the mill-house was the part occupied
by Mrs. Garland and her daughter, who made up in summer-time for the
narrowness of their quarters by overflowing into the garden on
stools and chairs. The parlour or dining-room had a stone floor--a
fact which the widow sought to disguise by double carpeting, lest
the standing of Anne and herself should be lowered in the public
eye. Here now the mid-day meal went lightly and mincingly on, as it
does where there is no greedy carnivorous man to keep the dishes
about, and was hanging on the close when somebody entered the
passage as far as the chink of the parlour door, and tapped. This
proceeding was probably adopted to kindly avoid giving trouble to
Susan, the neighbour's pink daughter, who helped at Mrs. Garland's
in the mornings, but was at that moment particularly occupied in
standing on the water-butt and gazing at the soldiers, with an
inhaling position of the mouth and circular eyes.

There was a flutter in the little dining-room--the sensitiveness of
habitual solitude makes hearts beat for preternaturally small
reasons--and a guessing as to who the visitor might be. It was some