Great Uncle Hoot-Toot

ers into a good-sized kitchen, where the table was already set, in a homely fashion, for dinner. A stout, m

chair, Mr. Ned. You'll have a glass of beer to begin with?" and as he poure

ust then lifting a large pan of potatoes off the fire, and as she turned her face to the light, Geoff notic

xclaimed, darting forwar

rst out

knows which side his bread's butter

n his lips, when Jowett, who to his great indignat

aught to fly up about. E

this time shaken the potatoes into a large dish that sto

ways we want hereabouts. Sit thee down, Ned; and Jim, there, you can draw the ben

nd Mrs. Eames and their guest were all helped, and had allayed the first sharp edge of their appetites. But from

be kind," th

. The farmer looked round, after a deep dra

good-naturedly. "I can't promise it

ed. "I never take beer; moth

; "but though you're not thirs

t, hungry though he was, he could not manage it all. Half-way through, a sort of miserable choky feeling came over him: he thought of his meals at home-the nice white tablecloth, the sparkling glass and silver, the fine china-and all seemed to grow misty before his eyes for a minute or two; he almost felt as if he were going to faint, and the voices at the table

d Jowett. "I'll walk round the place with you, i

tion when he goes to fetch the cans. You'll see that he doesn

ve a good deal last summer at-in the cou

tn't drive him too fast. Now, I'll tell one of the men to show you the yard, and the pig-st

nge his clothes afore he gets to that dirty

d him. The clothes he had on were a rough tweed suit he had had for the country; he had thought them ve

ousers in my bag," he said; "

s. Eames. "I'll look out; maybe there's

o need of a coat at all to feed the pi

oice was hear

er," it said, "

by Geoff, in his shirt-sleeves by thi

communicative certainly, and it seemed to the new boy that he eyed him with some dis

," with a jerk the other way. "Old pony's with master's mare, as he drives hisself. I've nought to say to pony;

"but if Mr. Eames doesn't find fault wi

nkling eyes were not pleasant. He muttered something, and then went grumbling across th

es as his temper waxed sourer. Articles, prepositions, and auxiliary verbs

one on the top of the other, making for the trough. Poor things! it was still

r," he said. "I don't mind pig

Matthew, with a grin. He hadn't yet made

ng after them is a very idle fellow." Matthew scowled. "Pigs don't need to be so dirty," Geoff went on. "I know at Cole--" But he stopped abruptly. He was certainly not going to take

for there being so much of it. "Matthew were that idle," and they'd been a hand short the last week or two. But Geoff wasn't going to give in; there was a sort of enjoyment in it when it came to the actual feeding of the pigs, and for the

-looking than could have been expected, whe

der than it looked, and he would have been forced to apply to Matthew, had not Jowett strolled into the stable. He felt sorry for the boy, sorrier than he thou

aid good-naturedly. "Seem

but-it does all seem v

le again by this time. He liked to feel the reins between his fingers, even though the vehicle was only a milk-cart, and the steed a sadly broken-winded ol

y way through town?" asked Jowett. "I'll

eep at the livery st

tt n

of it, I'd have written a letter for you t

that," he said. "I can get you a piece of paper and an envelope at the

one thing more? There's some one I would like to hear from sometimes, but I don't want to give m

give my address in the country. You just

Abel

y Sta

y Plac

ou won't want to give your name maybe? J

ee," he went on, half apologetically, "there's some on

sy to see they must have treated you oncommon badly to make a young gent like you have to leave his home and come d

assistance a real manly resolution, or not rather a fit of ill-tempered boyish spite? Would he not have been acting with far more true independence by accepting gratefully the education which would ha

t the boy, choking down the feeling

was to write. And Jowett undertook that she should have it that same evening. Had the boy been less preoccupied he could not but have been struck by the curious inconsistencies in the young coun

ued and home-sick Geoffrey who, in the chilly, misty autumn evening, drove the old pony through the muddy lanes to the farm, the