'll bet tuppence."

"I haven't yet," said Tom bluntly.

"No; you always were an ungrateful beggar," said Sam in a contemptuous
tone. "But that's about all you were fit for--sort of gardener's boy."

Tom felt a curious sensation tingling in his veins, and his head was
hot, for times had altered now, and he was not quite the same lad as the
one who had submitted to be tyrannised over in town. He was about to
utter some angry retort, but he checked himself.

"I won't quarrel with him," he said to himself; and just then Mrs
Fidler appeared with a covered dish, which she placed before the
visitor.

"Thankye," he said shortly. "Take the cover away with you."

There was always a line or two--anxious-looking lines--upon Mrs
Fidler's forehead; now five or six appeared, and her eyebrows suddenly
grew closer together, and her lips tightened into a thin line, as she
took off the cover, and then went in a very dignified way from the room.

Sam attacked the ham and eggs directly, and made a very hearty meal,
throwing a word or two now and then at his cousin, and asking a few
questions, but in an offhand, assumed, man-about-town style, and without
so much as glancing at Tom, who sat watching him till he had finished
his breakfast, when he rose, cleared his voice, rang the bell, brushed a
few crumbs from his clothes, and took out a cigarette case.

"There!" he said; "I'll join them down the garden now. Which is the
way?"

"I'll take you," said Tom; and just as Mrs Fidler entered, followed by
the maid to clear away, Sam struck a wax-match, lit his cigarette, and
walked out into the little hall and out into the porch, followed by Tom.

"Not a bad part of the country," said Sam condescendingly; "but who does
uncle find to talk to? Precious few decent houses."

"There are plenty," said Tom; "but they are a good way off. There's
uncle at the bottom of the field."

"So I see," said Sam. "I have eyes in my head. Humph! flowers.
Halloo! raspberries!"

He stepped off the green path they were on to where several rows of
neatly-tied-up raspberry canes crossed the garden, and began to pull the
ruddy thimbles off the tiny white cones upon which they grew; while
David, who was on the other side busy removing young pear-tree shoots
from the wall, stared at him aghast.

"Who's that fellow?" said Sam, as he took a whiff, then a raspberry,
alternately.

"Our gardener."

"_Our_, eh? Well, tell him to go on with his work. Wha