"Did you cook sausages?" quavered Dulcie, with intense interest.
"Aye, I'd earned a bit this morning to buy 'em with. Don't know who set up a stove here, but it come in handy for me, all filled ready with oil, too."
"But you know you've no right here," said Miss Birks severely.
"No, mum," reverting to his original whine. "I know that, but I'm a poor man, and I've been unfortunate. I came back to my native place looking for a bit of work. I've bin half over the world since I left it."
"If you're a Pontperran man, somebody ought to be able to vouch for you. What's your name?"
Then Gerda sprang forward with intense, irrepressible excitement on her face.
"Not Abel Galsworthy who was at one time under-gardener at the Castle?" she queried eagerly.
"The same—at your service, miss."
"And you were dismissed for—for——"