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What mischief would have followed but for a slant of luck, there’s no knowing: for Master Phoby had caught sight of her on the Helston Road (where he kept a watch), pushed after her hot-foot, worked her through the market like a stoat after a rabbit, and more than half-way to St. Ives (laughing up his sleeve), when his little design went pop! and all through the untying of a shoe-lace!

On the road after you pass Halsetown there’s a sharp turn; and, a little way farther, another sharp turn. For no reason that ever she discovered, ’twas just as she passed the first of these that her shoe-string came untied, and she sat down by the hedge to tie it; and here in tying it she broke the lace, and, while mending it, looked up into Phoby Geen’s face– that had come round the corner like the sneak he was and pulled up as foolish as a sheep.

In my experience a woman may be a fool, but ’tis within limits. Amelia Sanders, looking Phoby Geen in the face, went on tying her shoe; and, while she looked, she saw not only how terrible rash she had been, but also–without a guess at the particulars–that this man had been at the bottom of the whole mischief and meant to be at the bottom of more. So, said she, very innocent-like–

“Aw, good-afternoon, Mr. Geen!”

“Good-afternoon!” responded Phoby. “Who’d ever ha’ thought to meet you here, Miss Sanders?”

“‘Tis a tiring way from Porthleah to St. Ives, Mr. Geen.”

“Or from Porthleven, for that matter, Miss Sanders.”

“Especially when you walk it on tippy-toe, which must be extra-wearisome to a body on feet shaped like yours, Mr. Geen.”

Phoby saw that he was fairly caught. “Look here,” said he roughly, “you’re bound on a randivoo with Dan’l Leggo, and you can’t deny it.”

“I don’t intend to,” she answered. “And you be bound on much the same errand, though you’d deny it if your face could back up your tongue.”

“Dan’l Leggo has a-been my partner in business for five years, Miss Sanders. Isn’t it nat’ral enough I should want to visit and consult him?”

“Nothing more natural,” answered the girl cheerfully. “I was just wonderin’ where they’d hidden him: but since you know, my trouble’s at an end. You can show me the way. Which is it, Mr. Geen–north, south, east, or west?”

Phoby understood that she was laughing at him. “Don’t you think, Miss Sanders,” he suggested, “that ’twas pretty rash of you to give folks a clue as you’ve a-done to-day, and everybody knowing that you’ve been asked in church with Dan’l?”

“I do,” said she. “I’ve behaved foolish, Mr. Geen, and thank you for reminding me. He won’t thank a second partner for putting him in a trap,” she went on, speaking at a venture; but her words caught Phoby Geen like a whip across the face, and, seeing him blanch, she dropped a curtsey. “I’ll be going home, Mr. Geen,” she announced. “I might ha’ walked farther without finding out so much as you’ve told me; and you may walk twenty miles farther without finding out half so much.”

He glowered at her and let out a curse; but the girl was his match, though timmersome enough in an ordinary way.

“Iss, iss,” she said scornful-like; “I know the kind of coward you are, Mr. Phoby Geen. But I bless this here corner of the road twice over; first because it has given me a look into your sneaking heart, and next because ’tis within earshot of Halsetown, where I’ve a brace of tall cousins living that would beat you to a jelly if you dared lift a hand against me. I’m turning back to ask one of them to see me home; and he’ll not deny me, as he’ll not be backward to pound every bone in your ill-shapen body if he hears what I’ve to tell.”