"How did you come here?" he demanded, abruptly.
Helmsley, who happened to be at work basket-making, looked up, but made no reply. Whereupon Arbroath turned upon Mary—
"Is this man a relative of yours?" he asked.
Mary had risen from her chair out of ordinary civility as the clergyman entered, and now replied quietly.
"No, sir."
"Oh! Then what is he doing here?"
"You can see what he is doing,"—she answered, with a slight smile—"He is making baskets."
"He is a tramp!" said Arbroath, pointing an inflexible finger at him—"I saw him last summer smoking and drinking with a gang of low ruffians at a roadside inn called 'The Trusty Man'!" And he advanced a step towards Helmsley—"Didn't I see you there?"
Helmsley looked straight at him.
"You did."