s far."

"Well, yes," said Mr Willows, dryly. "We can do with it as short as it
is. Have a rest now, sir?"

"No, no," said the artist; "not for a bit."

It was a slow march home indeed, and later frequent rests had to be
indulged in.

"I say," said Will to Josh, "it's a pretty holiday, isn't it! Here, you
take these things. Catch hold."

"All right."

The march was resumed.

"Drinkwater is a trump," said Will at last.

"Rather a surly one," said Josh. "Why can't he be amiable?"

"I don't know."

"Whatever he says has got a sort of a sting in it."

"Hush! He'll hear."

"I wish he had."

"Look here, my man," said Mr Carlile at last, "have a rest now for a
bit. I will go on the other side of Mr Manners."

"No, no, sir; I can manage, thank ye," said Drinkwater. "I am a strong
one, you know, and it comes easy to such as me."

"So I see. But even the strong need rest, you know."

The man shook his head.

"I don't need no rest," he said. "I have worked hard all my life, and
it won't hurt me to do a bit more."

"Hark at that," said Josh. "Old grumpus!"

"Better leave him alone," said Willows. "He will have his own way.
Don't interfere."

"Oh, very well," said the Vicar. "Want a rest, Mr Manners?"

"No, no. We had better get on. What time is it?"

"Midnight--just after," said the mill-owner.

"Your wife will be anxious about you, Drinkwater," said the artist.

"Not she," was the response. "My wife knows me."

"Old stupid!" said Will. "As if we didn't know that! How could she
help knowing him when she's his wife?"

"I wonder your father puts up with him as he does," said Josh.

"Yes; I often wonder that," said Will. "But then old Boil O does know
such a lot. Look at to-night, for instance. Where should we have been
without him?"

"That's why he thinks he can be disagreeable, I suppose," said Josh.

The cottage was reached at last, and evidently Mrs Drinkwater had been
waiting anxiously all the time. She came hurriedly down the garden path
to meet the travellers.

"Oh, Mr Manners," she said, "you have hurt, yourself!"

"A trifle," he answered. "But you will know how to treat an injured
ankle, Mrs Drinkwater."

"I think I do, sir," said the woman, brightly, as she preceded the
little party into the cottage, and hastily put a cushion in the dark
brown Windsor chair which stood sentry-like by the fire.

Into this the artist was helped.

"Thank you, gentlemen," he sa