Moreover, on one memorable day Dorothea had watched one who did not halt precisely at the elm.

A few paces beyond it, and on the side of the road facing the grounds, straggled an old orchard, out of which her brother Endymion had been missing, of late, a quantity of his favourite pippins--by name (but it may have been a local one) Somerset Warriors.

The month was October, the time about half-past four, the light dusky.

Yet Miss Dorothea, lingering by the gate, saw a young man pass the Bayfield elm and climb the hedge; and saw and heard him nail against an apple-tree overhanging the road, a board with white letters on a black ground.

When it was fixed, the artist descended to the road and gazed up admiringly at his work.