The heart of Bessmoor

"You ask Mrs. Palling, the ancient lady who is good enough to 'do' for me; she is quite what one might call an intimate friend of his, she seems so well acquainted with his movements.

"Now, here we are at the cross-roads. Here we turn to the left and go down what we call a 'loke' in local parlance--in other words a cul-de-sac. And now, over there, you can see the chimney of my domicile. It only boasts of one. The other belongs to my good friend and neighbour the afore-mentioned Mrs. Palling, a most refreshing person whose acquaintance you should certainly make. She would amuse you. She is great on signs and portents, and won't even make a loaf of bread unless the moment is favourable. Her favourite hobby is 'Bees,' but I shouldn't use the word 'hobby,' I should rather say they are her household deities. She consults them about every detail, and informs them of every occurrence. I only trust they have permitted her to keep my fire burning, and then you shall soon have a cup of tea."

The sandy track along which they were passing--it could hardly be called a road--ended abruptly in a tiny open space with a grove of trees upon one side and a sandpit on the other. In the centre was a pond, shrunken at this season of the year to most diminutive proportions; so much so, indeed, that it barely served for the ablutions of some half-a-dozen ducks, who hustled and jostled one another angrily in their efforts to perform their toilet.