suppose one should learn a lot of
things I know nothing about."

Good-will goes a long way, however. Geoff felt really proud of his work
by Saturday evening, and on Sunday the farmer took a look at the
flower-beds himself, and said he had done well.

"Those beds over yonder look rough still," he went on, pointing to some
little distance.

"They don't show from the house," said Geoff, "and Branch says it's too
early to do much. There will be frosts again."

"No matter," said Mr. Eames; "I'd like it all to look as tidy as can be
for Monday, seeing as I'd promised to help. I'll give you another day
off the home-work, Jim. Robins's boy's very pleased to do the station
work."

[Illustration: THE FARMER TOOK A LOOK AT THE FLOWERBEDS HIMSELF.]

Geoff looked up uneasily. It would be very awkward for him, very awkward
indeed, if "Robins's boy" were to do so well as to replace him
altogether. But there was a pleasant smile on the farmer's face, which
reassured him.

"Very well, sir," he said. "I'll do as you like, of course; but I don't
want any one else to do my own work for long."

"All right," said Eames. For a moment Geoff thought he was going to say
something more, but if so he changed his mind, and walked quietly away.

Monday saw Geoff again at his post. It was a real early spring day, and
he could not help feeling the exhilarating influence of the fresh, sweet
air, though his heart was sad and heavy, for his hopes of a reply from
Vicky were every day growing fainter and fainter. There was nothing to
do but to wait till the time came for a holiday, and then to go up to
London and try to see them.

"And if they won't see me or forgive me," thought the boy with a sigh,
"I must just work on till I can emigrate."

He glanced up at the terrace as he thought this. He was working this
morning at some little distance from the house, but he liked to throw
a look every now and then to the beds which he had raked and tidied
already; they seemed so neat, and the crocuses were coming out so
nicely.

The morning was getting on; Geoff looked at his watch--he had kept it
carefully, but he never looked at it now without a feeling that before
very long he might have to sell it--it was nearly twelve.

"I must go home to dinner, I suppose," he thought; and he began
gathering his tools together. As he did so, some slight sounds reached
him from the terrace, and, glancing in that direction, he saw that one
of the long windows