Mrs. Prockter loomed up, disengaged. "Ah, Mr. Ollerenshaw," she said,
"everybody seems to be choosing the garden. Shall we go there? This
way."

She led him down the side-hall. "By the bye," she murmured, with a
smile, "I think our plan is succeeding."

And, without warning him, she sat down in the seat, and of course he
joined her, and she put her head close to his, evidently in a
confidential mood.

"Bless us!" he said to himself, apropos of himself and Mrs. Prockter,
glancing about for spies.

"It's horrid of me to make fun of poor dear Emanuel's singing," pursued
Mrs. Prockter. "But how did she take it? If I am not mistaken, she
winked."

"Her winked," said James; "yes, her winked."

"Then everything's all right."

"Missis," said he, "if you don't mind what ye're about, you'll have a
daughter-in-law afore you can say 'knife'!"

"Not Helen?"

"Ay, Helen."

"But, Mr. Ollerenshaw----"