erwick made an unobtrusive appearance. They had watched
Lionel turn the corner before approaching, for Robert was not anxious to
meet his late visitor by daylight.

"Good morning, sir," said Tony. He turned to his friend,--"What's yours?
Mine is beer, and lots of it!"

"Mine's bed," said Robert, and sat down with a yawn.

CHAPTER XII

CROSSED ORBITS

There are few things more restful than watching other people working
hard, and the sensation is doubly piquant when one is sitting in the
shade watching the worker toiling beneath the sun. Mrs. Peters was
sitting in the shade; and though she would have denied the suggestion of
idleness (for was she not picking the names of likely helpers for the
imminent bazaar?), it was not unpleasant to observe Brown, the odd-job
man, mowing the lawn. He seemed willing, though of course you must
remember he had been taken on only two days ago, and besides, knew that
the mistress had her eye on him; sober, too, refusing beer in favor of
lemonade--but there! that might be hypocrisy, for there is always
something, and these quiet men are often worse than the patently
unsteady. Probably he gambled.... Still, at present he was undeniably
working, and he had sense enough to oil the machine every quarter of an
hour.

The vicarage lawn was big enough for two tennis-courts, with a little
over for croquet in miniature or clock-golf. It took, theoretically, an
able-bodied man an hour and a half to "run the machine over it." The
optimistic phrase was the vicar's, who had not run the machine (or its
predecessors) for twenty years. A succession of practical runners made
the sum come out differently; and one rebellious soul--"of course, my
dear, a radical chapel-goer"--had invited his employer to shove the
qualified mower himself and see if 'e could do it in a qualified
howerananarf. The sporting offer was not accepted, but the idealistic
standard maintained. It was, in fact, a grass-cutting bogy who had never
been beaten yet.

"Be careful, Brown," said Mrs. Peters, preparatory to a departure
indoors, "to gather up _all_ the grass and put it in the sack. It looks
so untidy if you leave any lying about."

"Yes, ma'am," said Brown respectfully; "I'll be sure to do so. I ought
to finish in half an hour or so."

"Less, if you _work_, Brown," said Mrs. Peters reprovingly. She knew he
had been mowing for little over an hour, but discipline must be kept up.
Besides, does not Browning say, "