tained the prize. The butler
looked proud.

"I feel as much elated," said John, "as if I had raised them myself. Is
Nicholas here?"

"Yes, sir, and he has been saying that if the soil of your garden could
only be kept dry, they would be finer still."

"Dry!" exclaimed Valentine, "you can't keep anything dry in such a
climate as this--not even your jokes."

"Hear, hear," said John Mortimer; "if the old man was not a teetotaler,
and I myself were not so nearly concerned in this public recognition of
_our_ merits, I should certainly propose his health."

"Don't let such considerations sway you," exclaimed Valentine rising.
"Jones, will you tell him that you left me on my legs, proposing his
health in ginger-pop--'Mr. Nicholas Swan.'"

Mr. Nicholas Swan. Not one word of the ridiculous speech which followed
the toast was heard by Laura, nor did she observe the respectful glee
with which the butler retired, saying, "I think we've got a rise out of
the _True Blue_ now, sir. I'm told, sir, that the potatoes shown by the
_other side_, compared with these, seemed no bigger than bullets."

Mr. Nicholas Swan. A sudden beating at the heart kept Mrs. Melcombe
silent, and as for Laura, she had never blushed so deeply in her life.
Joseph's name was Swan, and it flashed into her mind in an instant that
he had told her his father was a gardener.

She sat lost in thought, and nervous, scarcely able to answer when some
casual remark was made to her, and the meal was over before she had
succeeded in persuading herself that this man could not be Joseph's
father, because her coming straight to the place where he lived was
_too_ improbable.

"There goes Swanny across the lawn, father," said one of the twins, and
thereupon they all went to the bow-window, and calling the old man,
began to congratulate him, while he leaned his arms on the window-frame,
which was at a convenient height from the ground, and gave them an
account of his success.

They grouped themselves on the seats near. Mrs. Melcombe took the chair
pushed up for her where, as John Mortimer said, she could see the view.
Laura followed, having snatched up a book of photographs, with which she
could appear to be occupied, for she did not want to attract the
gardener's attention by sitting farther than others did from the window;
and as she mechanically turned the leaves, she hearkened keenly to
Swan's remarks, and tried to decide that he was not like Joseph.

"The marki