the lower windows of the farm. She had her working apron on, and she
was industriously brightening the knives for the breakfast-table on an
old-fashioned board. A sleek black cat balanced himself on her
shoulder, watching the flashing motion of the knife as she passed it
rapidly to and fro on the leather-covered surface of the board.

"Come here," she said; "I want to speak to you."

I noticed, as I approached, that her pretty face was clouded and
anxious. She pushed the cat irritably off her shoulder; she welcomed me
with only the faint reflection of her bright customary smile.

"I have seen John Jago," she said. "He has been hinting at something
which he says happened under your bedroom window this morning. When I
begged him to explain himself, he only answered, 'Ask Mr. Lefrank; I
must be off to Narrabee.' What does it mean? Tell me right away, sir!
I'm out of temper, and I can't wait!"

Except that I made the best instead of the worst of it, I told her what
had happened under my window as plainly as I have told it here. She put
down the knife that she was cleaning, and folded her hands before her,
thinking.

"I wish I had never given John Jago that meeting," she said. "When a
man asks anything of a woman, the woman, I find, mostly repents it if
she says 'Yes.'"

She made that quaint reflection with a very troubled brow. The
moonlight meeting had left some unwelcome remembrances in her mind. I
saw that as plainly as I saw Naomi herself.