“Ay, at odd times,” returned Joe, “but I should like to devote all my time to it now.”
In pursuance of his plan the ex-diver went the following morning to the sea-shore, and walked in the direction of Sea Cottage, following the road that bordered the sands.
Near to that cottage, about two hundred yards from it, stood a small but very pretty villa. Joe knew its name to be Sea-beach Villa, and understood that it was the abode of his former master and friend, Edgar Berrington. There was a lovely garden in front, full to overflowing with flowers of every name and hue, and trellis-work bowers here and there, covered with jessamine and honeysuckle. A sea-shell walk led to the front door. Up this walk the diver sauntered, and applied the knocker.
The door was promptly opened by a very small, sharp-eyed domestic.
“Is your master at home, my dear?” asked Joe, kindly.
“I ain’t got no master,” replied the girl.
“No!” returned Joe, in some surprise. “Your missus then?”
“My missus don’t live ’ere. I’m on’y loaned to this ’ouse,” said the small domestic; “loaned by Miss Pritty for two days, till they find a servant gal for themselves.”
“Oh!” said Joe, with a smile, “is the gentleman who borrowed you within?”
“No, ’e ain’t,” replied the small domestic.