quiet sensible business in search of a mare's nest?"

"Don't be angry with me, father," I said. "I know all about the
business, and what a struggle you have had for years just to get a bare
living."

"Well, boy, that's true," he said with a sigh.

"I know, too, how things are getting worse and worse, and that the large
London works and competition make the business poorer every year."

"They do, my lad, they do," he said more quietly. "But I had hoped that
you would grow into a clever industrious man, and set the poor old
business on its legs again."

"I'd try and be clever, father," I replied, "and I know I could be
industrious, but my two arms would be of no use to contend against
machinery and steam."

He shook his head.

"I've thought about it for long enough now, father," I said; "and I can
see well enough that there's no chance of improving our little business
without capital, and that if that is not to be had it must get smaller
and smaller every day."

"Why, Harry, my boy," he said, as we strolled down now into our bit of
garden, "I didn't think you could see so far into a millstone as that."

"Oh, father!" I cried warmly, "do you think I have never felt miserable
and discouraged to see what a fight it has been with you to make up your
payments month after month?"

"I never thought you gave a bit of heed to it, my lad," he said warmly,
as he held out his hand, and took mine in a hearty grip. "I've
misjudged you, my boy; I've misjudged you. I didn't think you had so
much thought."

"Oh, father!" I cried, "why, all my wandering thoughts have had the aim
of getting on in life, and for a long time past it has seemed to me that
England's growing too full of people fighting against one another for a
living; and I felt that some of us must go out and try afresh in another
place."

"Like the bees do, when they swarm, my lad," said my father, looking
down at one of the old straw hives, with its pan turned over the top to
keep off the rain. "Well, perhaps you're right, Harry--perhaps you are
right. I won't fight against it, my boy. I only wish you luck."

"Father!" I cried, and I was about to say something else, but it would
not come, try how I would; and I stood there holding by his hand in the
garden, while he looked me in the face with a calmer, more gentle look
than I had seen in his eyes for some time past.

He was the first to break the silence, and then he clapped me on the
shoulder in