"Aye, he did. Since I finished that arbour he's took to it amazing—sits there by the hour—mam!" Mrs. Agatha smiled at the peas. "But this morning, mam, arter breakfast, he went and turned out all his—clothes, mam. 'Sergeant,' says he, 'be these the best I've got'—and him as never troubled over his clothes except to put 'em on and forget 'em."
"But you hadn't built the arbour then!" said Mrs. Agatha softly.
"Arbour!" exclaimed the Sergeant, staring.
"You've known him a long time?"
"I've knowed him nigh twenty years and I thought I did know him but I don't know him—there's developments—he's took to whistling of late. Only this morning I heard him whistling o' this song 'Barbary Allen' which same were a damned—no, a devilish—no, a con-founded barbarious young maid if words mean aught."
"True, she had no heart, Sergeant!"
"And a woman without an 'eart, mam——"
"A heart, Sergeant!"
"Aye, mam," said he, staring at the pincers, "a maid or woman without an 'eart is no good for herself or any——"
"Man!" suggested Mrs. Agatha, softly.