as doing right. But it's the loneliness. Vicky, I have
thought sometimes I'd go out of my mind. Will you ask Great-Uncle
Hoot-Toot to forgive me, too? I'd like to understand about all he
has done for us, and I think I am much sensibler about money than
I was, so perhaps he'll tell me. I can ask for a holiday in three
weeks, and then I'll come home for one day. I shall have to tell
you my plans, and I think mamma will think I'm right. I must work
hard, and perhaps in a few years I shall earn enough to come home
and have a cottage like we planned. For I've made up my mind to
emigrate. I don't think I'd ever get on so well in anything as in
a country life; for, though it's very hard work here, I don't mind
it, and I love animals, and in the summer it won't be so bad.
Please, Vicky, make everybody understand that I hope never to be a
trouble and worry any more.--Your very loving

"GEOFF.

"P.S.--You may write here now. I don't mind you all knowing where
I am."

By the time Geoff had finished this, for him, long epistle, it was
nearly dark. He had to hurry off to the station to be in time with the
milk. He was well known now by the men about the railway, and by one or
two of the guards, and he was glad to see one he knew this evening, as
he begged him to post his letter in town, for it was too late for the
Shalecray mail. The man was very good-natured, and promised to do as he
asked.

"By Tuesday," thought Geoff, "I may have a letter if Vicky writes at
once. And I might write again next Sunday. So that we'd hear of each
other every week."

And this thought made his face look very bright and cheery as he went
whistling into the kitchen, where, as usual of a Sunday evening, Eames
was sitting smoking beside the fire.

"The missis has told me about your letter, Jim," said the farmer. "I'm
right-down sorry about it, but I don't rightly know who to blame. It's
just got slipped out o' sight."

"Thank you," Geoff replied. "I'm awfully glad to have it now."

"He's never looked so bright since he came," said Mr. Eames to his wife
when Geoff had left the room. "He's about getting tired of it, I fancy;
and the squire's only too ready to forgive and forget, I take it. But
he's a deal o' good stuff in him, has the boy, and so I told the squire.
He's a fine spirit of his own, too."

"And as civil a lad as ever I seed," added Mrs. Eames. "No nonsense and
no airs. On