"Poor old Nannie!" said Anthea, as they went on down the grassy lane, "she is so very grateful for so little. And she is such a gentle old creature really, though the country folk do call her a witch and are afraid of her because they say she has the 'evil eye,'—which is ridiculous, of course! But nobody ever goes near her, and she is dreadfully lonely, poor old thing!"
"And so that is why you come to sit with her, and let her talk to you?" enquired Bellew, staring up at the moon.
"Yes."
"And do you believe in her dreams, and visions?"
"No,—of course not!" answered Anthea, rather hurriedly, and with a deeper colour in her cheeks, though Bellew was still intent upon the moon. "You don't either,—do you?" she enquired, seeing he was silent.
"Well, I don't quite know," he answered slowly, "but she is rather a wonderful old lady, I think."
"Yes, she has wonderful thick hair still," nodded Anthea, "and she's not a bit deaf, and her eyes are as clear, and sharp as ever they were."
"Yes, but I wasn't meaning her eyes, or her hair, or her hearing."
"Oh,—then pray what were you pleased to mean?"
"Did you happen to notice what she said about a—er—Man with, a—Tiger-Mark?" enquired Bellew, still gazing up at the moon.