hing, and though affectionately amiable to his
friends up at the cottage, he daily grew more morose to those beneath
him in the gardens, and made their lives as great a burden as his own
was to him.

Troubles of this kind go on for a long time before they reach the
employer's ears. James Ellis heard that there were complaints of
Barnett's tyrannical treatment, and threats on the part of the men to
leave; but he saw that the garden was admirably kept and sided with the
head, refusing to listen to the murmurs which grew deep now instead of
loud.

The months had glided by, and it was autumn once more, with the fruit
ripening fast in the garden, and, save to Mary Ellis, the sad episode of
John Grange's career had grown fainter and fainter in the memories of
those who had known him.

Barnett had long ceased to wait for invitations, and quite three times a
week used to go up to the cottage and stay late, while at the house he
was often joked and questioned as to when it was coming off, whereupon
he would smile and look knowing, while all the time there was a bitter
gnawing at his heart, for he knew that he was no nearer winning Mary
than he was the year before when John Grange disappeared.

Then came a sharp little encounter, one bright September day in the
garden, where, after his wont, old Tummus had been to what he called
"torment them there weeds," to wit, chopping and tearing them up with
his hoe, and leaving them to shrink and die.

The _Bon Chretiens_ were particularly fine that year, and one which had
become worm-eaten, and had in consequence prematurely ripened, showing
all the bright tints of its kind, had fallen and lay ready to rot, when,
hoeing away, old Tummus saw it, smiled to himself as he thought how it
would please old Hannah, picked it up and laid it aside ready to take up
to the bothy when he put on his coat at dinner-time.

"I shall have to ask him for it," muttered the old man, "or else
there'll be a row."

Just at that moment, as luck had it, Mrs Mostyn came along, with
scissors and basket, to cut a few dahlias, and, in obedience to a sudden
thought, old Tummus raised the fruit by the stalk and stepped toward his
mistress, offering her the pear.

"Strange nyste pear, mum," he said.

"And ripe so soon. There, lay it in the basket. Ah! Tut, tut! It's
all worm-eaten; take it away, and give it to somebody who will not
mind."

Mrs Mostyn went on, and old Tummus chuckled, and hid the pear ju