Jan sat himself down on the counter, and whirled his legs over to the other side, clearing the gallipots; so that he faced Miss Deborah. Not to waste time, he took the mortar before him. And there he was at his ease; his legs hanging, and his hands pounding.
"What should you think it is?" inquired he.
"How can I think, Mr. Jan? Until an hour or two ago, I had not heard of the rumour. I suppose it is somebody who walks about at night to frighten people. But it is curious that he should look like Frederick Massingbird. Can you understand it?"
"I am afraid I can," replied Jan, pounding away.
"Will you tell me, please, what you think."
"Can't you guess at it, Miss Deb?"
Miss Deb looked at him, beginning to think his manner as mysterious as Master Cheese's had been.
"I can't guess at it at all," she presently said. "Please to tell me."
"Then don't you go and drop down in a fit when you hear it," was the rejoinder of Jan. "I suppose it is Fred himself."
The words took her utterly by surprise. Not at first did she understand their meaning. She stared at Jan, her eyes and her mouth gradually opening.