He went off hurriedly with the other man, and their voices died away in the distance. Flower sat in his place on the floor for some time, and then, seeing from the window that the coast was clear, went downstairs again.
The old woman made him up a bed on the floor after supper, although both he and the old man assured her that it was unnecessary, and then, taking the lamp, bade him good-night and went upstairs.
Flower, left to himself, rolled exultingly on his poor couch, and for the first time in a fortnight breathed freely.
“If I do get into trouble,” he murmured, complacently, “I generally manage to get out of it. It wants a good head in the first place, and a cool one in the second.”
CHAPTER XVI.
He was awake early in the morning, and, opening the door, stood delightedly breathing the fresh, pine-scented air.
The atmosphere of the Blue Posts was already half forgotten, and he stood looking dreamily forward to the time when he might reasonably return to life and Poppy. He took a few steps into the wood and, after feeling for his pipe before he remembered that Miss Tipping was probably keeping it as a souvenir, sat on a freshly-cut log and fell into a sentimental reverie, until the appearance of a restless old man at the door of the cottage took him back to breakfast.
“I thought you’d run off,” said his host, tartly.
“You thought wrong, then,” said Flower, sharply, as he took out his purse. “Here are two of the five pounds I promised you; I’ll give you the rest when I go.”
The old man took the money and closed his small, hard mouth until the lips almost disappeared. “More money than sense,” he remarked, cordially, as the skipper replaced his purse.