WARNED AGAIN! The breakfast hour had not yet arrived when I got home.

I went into the garden to refresh my eyes--a little weary of the solemn uniformity of color in Fordwitch Wood--by looking at the flowers.
Reaching the terrace, in the first place, I heard below me a man's voice, speaking in tones of angry authority, and using language which expressed an intention of turning somebody out of the garden.

I at once descended the steps which led to the flower-beds.

The man in authority proved to be one of my gardeners; and the man threatened with instant expulsion was the oddly-dressed servant of the friend whom I had just left.
The poor fellow's ugly face presented a picture of shame and contrition, the moment I showed myself.

He piteously entreated me to look over it, and to forgive him.
"Wait a little," I said.