the hot glare of the sunshine.

There you are,' said Miss Twexby, pointing to a corner of the garden
near the fence where the plant was growing; 'par brought a lot of
seeds from home, and that beastly thing got mixed up with them. Par
keeps it growing, though, 'cause no one else has got it. It's quite
a curiosity.'

Vandeloup bent down and examined the plant, with its large, round,
smooth, purple-spotted stem--its smooth, shining green leaves, and
the tiny white flowers with their disagreeable odour.

'Yes, it is hemlock,' he said, half to himself; 'I did not know it
could be grown here. Some day, Mademoiselle,' he said, turning to
Miss Twexby and walking back to the house with her, 'I will ask you
to let me have some of the roots of that plant to make an experiment
with.'

'As much as you like,' said the fair Martha, amiably; 'it's a nasty
smelling thing. What are you going to make out of it?'

'Nothing particular,' returned Vandeloup, with a yawn, as they
entered the house and stopped at the door of Pierre's room. 'I'm a
bit of a chemist, and amuse myself with these things.'

'You are clever,' observed Martha, admiringly; 'but here's that
man's room--we didn't give him the best'--apologetically--'as miners
are so rough.'

'Mademoiselle,' said Vandeloup, eagerly, as she turned to go, 'I see