s if even the old bag was a kind
of comfort in its way, when the farm-man called him back.

"Dost think I's to groom pony?" he said ill-naturedly. "May stand till
doomsday afore I'll touch him."

[Illustration: MATTHEW, THE MAN.]

Geoff turned back. Of course, he ought to have remembered it was his
work, and if Matthew had spoken civilly he would even have thanked him
for the reminder--more gratefully, I dare say, than he had often thanked
Elsa or Frances for a hint of some forgotten duty. But, as it was, it
took some self-control not to "fly out," and to set to work, tired as
he was, to groom the pony and put him up for the night. It was all so
strange and new too; at Colethorne's he had watched the stablemen at
their work, and thought it looked easy and amusing, but when it came
to doing it, it seemed a very different thing, especially in the dusk,
chilly evening, and feeling as he did both tired and hungry. He did
his best, however, and the old pony was very patient, poor beast, and
Geoff's natural love of animals stood him in good stead; he could never
have relieved his own depression by ill temper to any dumb creature.
And at last old Dapple was made as comfortable as Geoff knew how, for
Matthew took care to keep out of the way, and to offer no help or
advice, and the boy turned towards the house, carpet-bag in hand.

The fire was blazing brightly in the kitchen, and in front of it sat the
farmer, smoking a long clay pipe, which to Geoff smelt very nasty. He
coughed, to attract Mr. Eames's attention.

"I've brought my bag from the station," he said. "Will you tell me where
I'm to sleep?"

The farmer looked up sharply.

"You've brought the milk-cans back, too, I suppose? Your bag's not the
principal thing. Have you seen to Dapple?"

"Yes," said Geoff, and his tone was somewhat sulky.

Eames looked at him again, and still more sharply.

"I told you at the first you were to keep a civil tongue in your head,"
he said. "You'll say 'sir' when you speak to me."

But just then Mrs. Eames fortunately made her appearance.

"Don't scold him--he's only a bit strange," she said. "Come with me,
Jim, and I'll show you your room."

"Thank you," said the boy, gratefully.

Mrs. Eames glanced at her husband, as much as to say she was wiser than
he, and then led the way out of the kitchen down a short, flagged
passage, and up a short stair. Then she opened a door, and, by the
candle she held, Geoff saw a very small, v