And then old Silas came round the privet hedge to fetch his wheelbarrow. He came to an abrupt standstill when he caught sight of the two girls, and stared, open-mouthed, his hat pushed back on his head and his watery blue eyes wide with astonishment. He had had no idea that there was anyone in the garden; he had not heard any talking, as he was afflicted with deafness.
"'Ere!" was all he said, when he recovered from his surprise.
Pamela and Isobel started, and turned round at once.
They beheld a very wrinkled little old man, with a ruddy complexion and a tuft of white beard under his chin; he wore a green baize apron, to protect his clothes from the soil, and had a vivid pink shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. As the girls returned his gaze steadily, they saw his face begin to work and twitch with indignation.
"'Ere!" he said again.
"I beg your pardon," said Pamela.
"What do you want, my good man?" inquired Isobel, haughtily.
"'Ere! Wot yer doin' to that there bush? You leave it be, my gels!" called Silas.
Isobel's eyebrows were raised in indignant surprise.
"Why—we're only doing a little gardening! What is it? Who are you?" asked Pamela, unaware that old Silas was deaf.